


Dimension

by mikeyandellie



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Dimensions, Angst, Coraline - Freeform, Creepy, Dark, Does that make sense?, El doesn't have powers tho, Emotional, F/M, It's gonna have some cursing, Like 20-ish, Love, Mileven, Modern AU, Modern Day, Music, Spooky, also like it's kinda flipped, and romantic stuff, basically it's Coraline in the st world, but that's later, cause michael is the inter-dimensional one, idk what else to put this is my first fic, oh the kiddos are older!, sorry pals, stranger things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 60,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeyandellie/pseuds/mikeyandellie
Summary: Jane Brenner wishes only to do one thing in her short-lived life: impress her father. In order to prove herself as a mature twenty year old, she goes off and buys an apartment in a new city. But, she finds something that begins to unravel mysteries greater than she ever expected and more than she bargained for. An adventure of escape, shock, and complete craziness is shared with Mike - a boy trapped in another dimension.





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for clicking onto this fic!! This is one of my first Mileven stories (I used Wattpad for awhile before coming here) and I hope that it's as cool on the screen as it is in my head. Please let me know how it is and I look forward to hearing from you!! ~Veronica

" _One person's craziness is another person's reality._ " -Tim Burton

 

 

Chapter One ~ 

 

"You realize that becoming an adult includes high expectations right? Just because you think you are so mature doesn't mean you don't have responsibilities to uphold. I am very disappointed in you, Jane," my stressed, but persistent father speaks to me.

There it was. He was disappointed in me as he always seemed to be. I could be the leader of the entire world, but he would still be disappointed. I didn't even know what I had done wrong half the time. But, of course, if I said anything, I was in trouble.

"Yes, sir. I understand," I speak back, sighing.

I was currently moving into a new apartment in a little town I had never even heard of before. Hawkins, Indiana...a place for the...unexpected? In order to prove to my father that I could handle myself and be independent, I decided to move away from my old home. He obviously insisted on helping me move in and sadly that included telling me everything I was doing wrong.

"Do you really? Because then you wouldn't have purchased an apartment next to three lunatics," my father says, already judging the people he had just seen in the hallway.

That was another one of my father's trademarks; criticizing others. He was defiantly an old-fashioned kind of person and felt that anyone that didn't stick to tradition should be told off immediately. This included many things like taking drugs or sleeping around with random people. Or in this case, having a what seems to be mentally-ill female neighbor and an up and coming abstract artist. I was already disappointing him because of what he saw of them, but I couldn't really care less currently. I had an apartment to move into and lots of things to unpack and an unruly father to impress.

"Please Papa, they aren't lunatics," I protested. "They just are...different. At least give them a chance."

"Was that an attitude I hear? I expect none of that from a twenty year old who is going to 'prove me wrong,'" he says, huffing his breath while repeating my words.

We bring the last box into my flat and my father walks into my small kitchen. He glances inside my puny refrigerator.

"Unpack the things from your bedroom and then go buy groceries. I don't need you starving on your first week here," he says without a glimpse of a chuckle in his voice. He returns once again to his position in front of the front door with his arms crossed. That's how he always stood when in deep thought, most likely concentrating on the minuscule failures I presented.

"Now, I expect you to be respectful to everyone here...even those freaks. I will be checking up on you regularly," he says, not even batting an eye.

"Yes, Papa. I have everything under control. I mean I'm not five years old," I say, placing my hands on my hips. Sure, I knew better than to push my luck, but he was almost out the door.

"No sass young lady. Just don't kill yourself or burn the apartment down. I will call you when I get home," he says, leaving without a goodbye, the smack of the door in the frame more of a sign of departure.

I shrug my shoulders. His presence certainly isn't missed and I can't help but begin to laugh at the fact that I have finally escaped the hell that is my over protective and perfectionist father. Don't get me wrong, he has provided for me all these years, but he is a little bit to tightly wound up for my liking. He always feels I am too immature to handle anything and has practically no faith in me. He's not exactly my number one cheerleader if you catch my drift. Today was almost like the beginning of getting away from him and proving to myself and him that I don't need him that much anymore. Besides, it's not like an orphan can choose her adoptive father. He would be at the bottom of my list.

I turn to look at all the boxes that need unpacking and I sigh heavily. I roll my shoulders back and walk over to my bedroom. I counted the number of boxes inside to find that just for that small amount of living space, I had nineteen boxes. I look at them and take a long sigh. I don't want to unpack, but then I have no idea what I could be doing. I saunter over to a box labeled 'CLOTHING 4'. I marked each clothing box with a number so that I'd know what's in each box. In this case, I had one of those old detective style brown jackets. I pulled it out of the box and slid it on, figuring I should run out and at least get groceries before the light sky goes away. I grab my new blue-silver set of keys from my bed and make my way out the front door. I begin to lock it when I hear a voice.

"Hi...you must be...um what was her name Lucas? Oh Jane...you must be Jane," a female voice speaks and I turn around to see one of the neighbors my father was already judging. I look around to see if there is a boy around since she called someone Lucas, but to no avail. That's odd.

"Yep, I'm Jane," I smile, "And you are?"

"I'm Maxine. But, Lucas calls me Max instead, so I guess you can, too. Oh and this is Lucas," she says, gesturing beside her, but no one is their. She looks too old to have imaginary friends, but who am I to judge? I mean my only friend is my mind practically.

"It's nice to meet you...um both," I reply and she smiles widely.

"Quick question though. Who is that mean looking man you came in with?" she asks me and I am taken aback by her abruptness. I would think only a child would ask that kind of question. She is a few inches taller than me, but her long, wavy red hair and small blue eyes could tell me otherwise.

"My father," I say taking a deep breath, "I'm sorry about him. He's just a little too wound up in the head if you know what I mean. He just doesn't know you is all. He can be nice sometimes. Just most of the time he can act like an..." I drift off, not sure if I should cuss in front of her.

"An asshole? Oh trust me, I felt the same way about my brother! He was annoying as hell and a total dick frankly. But then Lucas told me what I could do to get rid of him. You may want the same advice."

"Which is?" I ask skeptically.

"Just kill him. A gun or something will work," she smiles and my eyes try not to go wide, but my jaw unhinges a little. What is wrong with this girl?

"Oh uh well...I have to get going, so we can talk later?" I propose.

"Okay! Bye Jane!" she says walking into her already unlocked apartment and shutting the door.

I can feel my face contort in curiosity and nervousness at my previous conversation as I begin to walk out of the building. I mean my father drives me crazy, but I would never kill him. Besides, who is this Lucas guy she keeps talking to? The same questions rattle my mind as I get into my car and drive. My mind continues to buzz with the questions concerning Max. What could be a logical solution to something as catastrophic as that? Is there even an answer? Not any that I am aware of anyway.

Unlikely answers flow through my mind as I pull into the small lot of the store. It wasn't exactly a high quality store and my nose cringed at the smell of it as I entered. I only need food to keep for a few days and then I can go to an actual market. You see my apartment is about thirty minutes from an actual store, so practically it is in the middle of a dreary nowhere. But, I just keep reminding myself, no more father. That sacred phrase gets rid of every sickening discomfort I can think of.

I stroll around the store trying to find something that might last the next couple of days. After scourging for a number of minutes, I only come across an almost rotten bag of four apples, a loaf of uncut and squishy bread, a dented jar of peanut butter, and a leaking gallon of milk. With the amount of money I have and the amount of food I eat, this will suffice for now. I walk over to the cashier, items in hand, and set them down on the counter. I grab my small wallet and prepare to hand over the amount of money due.

"I haven't seen you before," the cashiers says to me as he rings up the milk. He smiles a goofy, crooked-tooth grin. His eyes seem to pop out as he does this. I glance at his name tag to see the name "DUSTIN" is boldly fading on it.

"I'm new around here. I just bought an apartment on the corner of Cedar Avenue," I reply, returning a fraction of the smile. He places all my items in a bag and reads out the amount I owe as I pull out the bills.

"Wimbly Flats, I presume?" he asks as he hands the bags to me.

"Yeah, actually. How'd you know?" I answer and I immediately regret it. It's the only apartment complex in Hawkins so obviously he knew of it.

"My Nana owns it," he says as he hands me my receipt and change. "I'm surprised she'd rent it out to you though."

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Well you see, Nana never rents it out to people who are alone."

"That's a lie. My neighbor, Max, lives alone," I reply shaking my head.

"Not exactly. She technically does live with someone...her mind. If you've met her you know she mentions someone named Lucas. He isn't real, but she thinks he is which is good enough for Nana. Max, you see, is schizophrenic."

His words seem to piece everything together. As scary as it seems, it is obvious that I have looked over that disorder. Schizophrenia is when your mind makes up people sometimes to the extent where you kill people. I know I should be worried, but I am actually intrigued. I have always wanted to see schizophrenia firsthand.

"You are so going to bail out now, aren't you?" Dustin says with another whole-hearted smile.

"Nope, you can't get rid of me that easy," I chuckle finally.

He gives me a lopsided smile at my response and I wave him a goodbye. I rush back in my car with my weary food and drive back to my new home. The clouds above me threaten to begin pouring and I speed up my driving. As I pull into the parking lot, the wet drops furiously pour down. I grab my grocery bags in the passenger seat and make a mad dash for the entrance of the building. But, of course, I am soaked by the time I reach the inside.

I quietly walk up the stairs of the building and I finally reach my apartment. I take my key out and as I twist the lock, I hear the door next to me open. Sure enough, out steps the small artsy boy I mentioned earlier. He was clad in black slacks and a beige vest with paint splatters. All the drops were vibrant hues of red. What could he possibly be painting with that? His bare feet made squeaky noises on the tile floor and he wreaked of cigarettes and moldy cheese. He stops immediately when he sees me. I stare blankly back at him before shaking my head and offering a hello. He continues to stare at me and I quickly open my door and enter. Just as I shut the door, a knock sounds. I place my bags down on a nearby box and open it again to see the boy.

I give him a blank look for I am not exactly sure of what I should say.

"I am Will. Will Byers," he greets me in a monotone voice. His large brown eyes were boring into mine, a chill running down my spine.

"Nice to meet you," I nod, "I'm Jane."

He continues to stare at me for a number of moments before turning around and walking down the hall. I peak down the hall and crinkle my nose at the awkwardness of the previous minutes.

I shut my door and take my groceries to the kitchen to put them away. Since I am not hungry, rather tired, I go straight to my room. I plop down on my bed and rub my eyes. I try relaxing on the hard mattress, but I find myself tossing and turning. I want to impress my father more than anything, but the thought of him makes me want to hurl. I just need to relax, I'm free.

I can feel myself restlessly turning and seeing that I can't sleep, I sit up and study my room.

And that's when I see it. A tiny door covered over by wallpaper. I blink my eyes rapidly at the sight of it. I don't remember ever seeing that.

I get up and make my way to it and touch the seam of its outer edge over the wallpaper. I find what appears to be a keyhole and race to my purse to look for the set of keys the flat complex gave me. I rummage through the set for a few moments, running everything the receptionist told me through my head.  _One for the door, one for the windows, one for this, one for that._ To my dismay do I find a key that could be for this door. I mean, I hadn't even seen it before. I am just circling my room when I look up and see a key taped to the ceiling. Whoever put it there didn't want me to find it. Oh well.

I stack many boxes on top of each other and I snatch the key just before the boxes collapse. I sit on my bed and peel the tape off. I study its intricate design as I hold it in my hands. The teeth of it are curved and jagged and the long piece that holds it together almost resembles the structure of a bone. What is so eerie about it though is that the top part is a large black, steel button. Odd.

I trek over to the door and crouch down so that I am face to face with it. I realize I will need to tear the wallpaper in order open it. With the teeth of the key, I carve out the edge of the door from the wallpaper. When I am finished, I stick the key into the lock and twist it and I hear a click, symbolizing it has been unlocked. I heave the door open and my eyes widen.

What is this?


	2. 002

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I think that in terms of an updates schedule, I am going to do Monday, Wednesday, & Saturday! I have most of the story written, so hopefully it won't be a problem to keep up with! Hope you are enjoying it so far!!! ~Veronica

Chapter Two ~

What lays before me is enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone. Even though I'm practically a grown woman, I can feel a shiver of confusion and terror run through me. Every sane thought I could have possibly ever had in my mind has now escaped. Every last thought of being insane completely floods through me as I stare at the other side of the door.

A glowing, moving, and windy tunnel faces back at me. It seems barely durable and flashes of light in hues of green and purple could be seen practically everywhere. If you were to drop a pin, you would definitely hear it at the new found quietness I have entered. I rake a hand through my hair and squint down the long tunnel to be astonished.

There is another door. It seems to be the same size as the one I am looking through and it is slightly agape. Where could it possibly lead to? Only one way to find out, right?

I muster up enough courage to calm my nerves and I begin to crawl through the tunnel. It is warm in the small area and I barely fit. The material of the actual tunnel is quite soft, almost like silk. The stability of the passage is not great, causing me to tumble on my hands as you would when you fall on a trampoline. I crawl a few more feet and I hear a noise. I stop my movement and listen as carefully as I can. I can faintly hear something like the sound of music. Humming perhaps? It is a quite distinct melody with what appears to be no actual words. I commence my crawling again and I pause when the door is about an inch or so away from me. What am I getting myself into?

With my shaky right hand, I push the door open the rest of the way. I close my eyes as I crawl into the jarring unknown. When my feet are out of the tunnel, I open my eyes. A bed, a dusty lamp, and a whirring fan - in the exact place they were at the first little door. I am just back in my new room? What? I stand up and my face contorts in confusion. I spin around countless times. Something seems different. Wait a minute. There aren't any boxes. Although this room appears to be a replica of my actual room, it is obvious that there is nothing that needs to be unpacked. I walk over to the closet and open it to find all my clothes hung up nicely. Odd.

"Jane?" I hear a voice call from another room. A familiar voice.

I quietly make my way to the door of my room and walk out. I glance around my apartment and walk around, trying to find the person who called out for me. After a moment, I hear sizzling on the stove and make my way to the kitchen. When I arrive, I see my father standing with his back to me.

"Papa, what are you doing he-" I say, but I can't continue. My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide as he turns around to look at me. He may look the same, but there is one difference, one that makes me gasp.

His eyes. My own pair dart right to them. They aren't eyes.

They're buttons. Black and shiny and big. They glisten in the light of my kitchen. They are what appears to be sewn into his skin for I can see thread tightly notched in the holes.

"Jane, what did I teach you about staring? It is not polite," he smiles in a sultry voice. Since when does Papa every show an ounce of emotion? I do not move an inch. I don't even dare to breathe.

"Come on now, give me a hello at least. I’ve raised you better than this," he says and I feel appalled.

"You're not Papa," I reply, pointing a finger at him and taking a step closer to him. "Papa doesn't have b-b-b..." I stutter. I point to my eyes as I attempt my speech.

"B-b-buttons? Oh, I know that, Jane. I'm your other father. Your other Papa. Everyone has one. They don't usually get to meet them though which is depressing and all. But, I have been waiting for you for a very long time," he smiles an eerie, yet dazzling smile. "Now, go fetch Max, Lucas, and Will. Supper is ready," he finishes while opening the oven door to reveal a glazed ham and yams. My mind starts to spin. I have never seen Papa actually cook for himself let alone me. This has to be some sort of a sadistic joke.

My feet don't move from their position on the tiled floor. This is creepy and eerie and...impossible. Or is it? The "other" Papa looks at me and motions with one of his hands to run along. I keep my eye on him as I turn around. I decide to listen to his orders and walk to the front door of my apartment. After glancing around, I see that everything is unpacked and in its place. Huh. I reach for the doorknob and when I push it open, the sight in front of me startles me even more.

The hallway is clean and well lit, unlike my actual apartment complex. The doors aren't splintering and the tile flooring sparkles under my dirty white Converse. I apprehensively knock on Max’s door. The door swings open almost immediately to reveal her in a sparkling red dress, much different than her rundown wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts. She, of course, has buttons for eyes as well. I suddenly feel as if I have lost my voice at the sight of her and her shiny clean apartment behind her.

"Oh hello, Jane!" she greets me and her buttons shine in the light. Yikes.

"He said that um dinner's ready. You know like food?" I stutter, quite unsure of myself since I am scared out of my mind.

"Oh wonderful! Let me just get Lucas," she says, walking into her apartment. Not even thirty seconds later, she appears with a boy just a head taller than her. So, this is how she pictures Lucas. Her imagination seemed to have created him with nearly buzzed black hair, ebony skin, and puffy lips.

"Jane! Great to see you!" he says, taking a step towards me and wrapping me in a tight hug. I remain motionless. I yelp in order to tell him I want him to back away from me. The pair smile at me before walking over to my apartment. I mindlessly saunter over to Will’s apartment, but the door swings open before I can knock.

"Well isn't it the beautiful Jane!" he chants and I smile slightly. I look into his buttons as he speaks his words.

"Supper's ready," I shrug to him and he claps his hands together and makes his way over to my apartment. I cautiously follow behind him. He scampers off to where my dining room is and when I enter, my eyes widen at its bright glow.

The table is set up with a nice white table cloth and various foods are laid out on the table. There was a ham and mashed potatoes and enough corn on the cob to feed a militia. There were countless other foods that I just wanted to sink my teeth into. My other father (is that what I should be calling him?) pulls out a chair at the head of the table and motions for me to sit. I offer him a small smile as he pushes me in and he squeezes my shoulders lightly.

As everyone else did, I begin to dig into the lavish meal set out in front of us. I load my plate with various savory items and begin to dig in when I was satisfied with what I had. Let me just tell you that this food was absolutely delicious. The ham was succulent and the mashed potatoes were creamy and it just seemed as if everything was cooked to perfection. I couldn’t imagine...real Papa ever doing something like this. He is all business and shady government dealings. All this cooking is left up to the maids.

"Thirsty?" Max asks me after I scarf down a buttered roll. I nod a yes and she points up to the lowering chandelier. The lights, to my amazement, are actually nozzles that are holding drinks. Each had a label written in perfect cursive and I raise my glass to the cherry smoothie, my favorite. I was taking large gulps of the perfection as my plate was taken away and replaced with a cake. 

I set my drink down and the cake begins to decorate itself in a sort. Candles with a flower bottom appeared around the edge and in the same cursive handwriting, "Welcome home, Jane!" was written in baby pink icing. I look up at the table to see my other father and all of his guests looking back at me with their shining black buttons, huge grins plastered on their faces.

"Home?" I mumble out, obviously scared. I mean this wasn't my home. I don't even know what I could call this.

"We've been waiting for you, Jane,” other Papa speaks and rests a hand on my shoulder. I widen my eyes at his response. That was by far the creepiest phrase I’ve heard during this endeavor.

"I uh, I'm very tired, so I'm just going to go to bed now," I say, startled. I need to get out of here.

"Okay, Jane. I hope you enjoyed dinner. I shut your door for you, too," he smiles that unfamiliar grin again. Oh no, the tiny door?

The room fills with a chorus of farewells and I simply wave at them all. My other father follows me to the door of my room.

"I hope you like it here, Jane. I hope things can be better here," he says, nodding with a smile and giving my shoulders a light squeeze. I wince slightly, not used to contact from him in general.

"I do. And uh thank you?" I say, second guessing my words. He smiles at me before returning to the dining room.

I enter my room and shut the door behind me immediately. I go over to the tiny door to see that it is indeed locked. I huff my breath and sigh. I guess I'm just going to have to figure out how to get out of here tomorrow.

I plop down on my bed, not minding to go under the covers. I close my eyes and try to focus on my rushed breathing when I feel a hand clamp over my mouth.

"Don't scream," a raspy voice says to me. I open my eyes and I can't see the person in the darkness. I hear the figure shuffle and click on the light.

To my surprise, a boy faces me. His tongue is between his teeth and his hand is still clamped over my mouth. He has curly black hair messily laid on his head and he wears brown corduroy pants with a red-blue striped shirt. What strikes me the most about him is that he does not in fact have buttons for eyes. He has these brown pair of eyes that have me staring. He is probably the most handsome guy I had ever seen.

"Don't scream," he repeats his words again when he is done studying me. He removes his warm hand from my mouth and I sit up.

"Who the hell are you?" I let out a breath and inch away from him on my bed.

"Mike," he says lowly. "And welcome to this seemingly perfect, but totally screwed up dimension."


	3. 003

Chapter Three ~

I stare blankly back at Mike.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I reply and he grins.

"You must suppose that this world is a dream come true: nice father, perfect neighbors, good food, great apartment. Well, you're wrong. Everything here is a myth, a lie. He's trying to lure you in by your desires rather than your needs. Take your father for example. Your actual father is what appears to be rude and, no offense, quite abusive. While this so called father is nice and caring and sentimental. He’s dragging you in this perfect world with what you want more than anything. Well Eleven, perfect worlds don't exist."

I inhale a sharp breath at his apparent knowing words. My heart beats quicker than normal and I can't focus on anything. I didn't exactly want to come here, but I still did and now, I'm in this great mess. My mind cannot think of any words to reply back until a sudden question peaks in my mind.

“Eleven? My name is Ja-”

“Jane, yes, I know. But you’re the eleventh person to ever get sucked in here. It’s just a nickname.”

My eyes bore back into his. How long has this place existed? Has it always been real? Clearly there have been others, including Mike himself.

"If this...'dimension' is so bad, how come you stay here?" I ask, giving him a knowing look. He looks down at his lap, almost trying to stop from chuckling.

"You think I want to be here? No, Eleven. It's not exactly my dream vacation. But, in order not to spoil too much of his great mysteries, let's just say that I refused his gift and in order to keep what he really is a secret, I must stay here."

"That doesn't make any sense," I reply as soon as the words leave his mouth.

"Oh, but Eleven, they do. In my mind anyway," he says, staring me straight into my eyes.

"First of all, stop calling me ‘Eleven.’ Second, explain this some more so I understand it like you then,” I shoot back.

"First of all, don't tell me what to do," he starts and I roll my eyes. “Second, how about we make this a game and you have to figure out what I'm talking about."

I stare back at him hardly, huffing my breath. He cannot, for whatever reason, suppress a smile. It seems, as if to him, this is all a joke. But, how could this be a joke?

"Why do you have to be so stubborn? I'm just trying to sort this all out and you're just being rude."

"I'm not stubborn. I just want you to figure it out on your own. If he knew I told you things, then we would be in a bigger mess than we are in now. Trust me on this. You will figure this out sooner or later."

I clench my jaw at his reply. What could be so bad? He said that yes, this place is a supposed lie, but still.

"Why don't you have button eyes?" I ask, suddenly.

"Well, Eleven, that's for you to figure out as well," he smirks and I roll my eyes at the pet name and his repeated words.

"This doesn't make any sense,” I say to him as he stands up from his position on my bed.

"It won't for awhile, but soon enough it will,” he states, making his way to my door to leave. He opens it cautiously and peers outside before opening the door completely and walking out.

"Can you at least give me a hint?" I call out. He pops the upper half of his body back into my room and gives me a smile.

"It's all some sick nightmare that just so happens not to be a nightmare,” he says comically and once again, walks away, leaving me in confused thought.

-

I push my hair out of my face and open my tired eyes. After Mike left me in a puddle of confusion last night, the abrupt feeling of sleepiness came over me and of course, I went to bed. I sit up and my eyes are met by a pile of boxes. How did I get back? I mean I'm not complaining, but the door was closed and locked. I trip out of bed and stumble to the door. It appears to be locked with the key still intact in the keyhole. This is getting stranger by the minute. I don't even get up from my sitting position when a knock is heard from my front door. I glance to my digital clock to see ‘7:04 a.m.’ shine in red. Who could be here this early?

I get up and weave my way through the boxes on the floor. I slowly open the door when I reach it. To my surprise, Max stands there in rugged pajamas but, to my relief, with no button eyes.

"Hi?" I ask, unsure of myself.

"I come with a warning," she says sternly, staring at me hardly.

"Excuse me?" I ask, appalled at her statement.

"Lucas wanted me to tell you that you shouldn't go through the tiny door. He says it holds many dangers. Do you know of such a door?" she muses.

I stare blankly back at her, expressionless and not moving. How is that even possible? How could a figment of her imagination know about this? I would presume that it would be impossible.

"Nope. I haven't seen a little door,” I lie. With that, she nods and turns to go into her apartment. I turn back into my own and shut the door. My mind doesn't even have the time to process anything before my phone goes off. I scurry to retrieve it and see that it is the lobby that is calling. What could they want?

"Hello?"

"Miss Brenner, you have a visitor. He wishes for you to meet him outside,” a male voice speaks through the receiver. I contort my face at his words. I wasn't expecting anyone. I thank the man and hurry out of my apartment and down the stairs to the lobby. Following the order, I make my way outside only to see Dustin, the boy I met at the supermarket, staring up at the building.

"What are you doing here?" I smile, approaching him. He returns the gesture and holds out something wrapped in newspaper.

"Well, I found this and I thought you should have it since it looks like you and all," he says and I skeptically take the bundle out of his hands. I carefully unwrap the paper and my eyes widen when I see what it holds.

"Creepy, right? My grandmother had it too,” he says as I stare at it. In my hands laid a doll. But, not an ordinary doll. It was small and seemed to be made of rags, but the worst of it all was that it looked like me. It had short, curly brown hair cropped in a bob and was dressed in my signature look of my brown detective type coat, dark wash overalls, and converse. But, then it gets worse. My eyes...black buttons. I look up at Dustin, scared at the fact that this is really an object.

"It is yours, right?" he asks and I shake my head furiously.

"If you don't mind, I'll keep it though,” I stutter. Dustin nods before waving a goodbye. As he begins to walk away, I stare back down. This can get tacked on the list of impossibilities.   
First, the door, then the other people, then Mike, then Max, and now, this doll. What is going on? I re-wrap the doll and put it under my arm, turning back to the entrance of the building.

"Jane!" a voice calls out and I turn around to see Papa curtly over to me. Great, just what I need right now. He walks smoothly, trying to suppress his anger and appear calm.

"You never returned my phone call. Now, Jane, was that a very responsible thing to do? No, but of course you don't care! I was worried sick about you and then, I come here only to see you with a boy! That was not a wise decision now, was it? I am very disappointed in you, Jane,” he says all in one shot and I roll my eyes. "What did he give you?"

"That's none of your business, Papa." I fire, turning away from him in order to go into the building again.

"Excuse me, young lady, but it is every right of mine. Now, get back over here and show me what he gave you,” he says sternly. I reluctantly turn around and thrust the package into his hand. He unwraps it furiously and when he sees the doll, he begins shaking his head quickly.

"Is this how he is trying to win you over? This is pathetic. I don't want you associating with him," he says still shaking his head and handing me back the doll. I don't even bother replying. Instead, I turn around and begin to walk inside. With my nonexistent luck, he follows me. We journey to my room in silence and the first thing he does is check that I have fulfilled his wishes. I walk straight into my bedroom and drop the doll on my bed.

"I see you didn't unpack your room," he glares at me and suddenly his eyes dart at something. The door. 

"What is that?" he points, walking over to it.

"A door," I reply sarcastically while walking behind him. He reaches for the key and before I can yell for him to stop, he unlocks and opens it. My mouth drops at the sight. Instead of the tunnel, a solid brick wall faces us.

"And the purpose of this is?" Papa asks and I shrug in shock, confusion, and exhaustion.

"Well, figure it out. And unpack your room. I'm leaving now. I expect a phone call," he says, shutting the door, getting up, and leaving.

As soon as I hear the door shut, I flop down on my bed. This is getting more confusing the deeper I get into it. I grab the doll and examine it once again to see nothing new of it. I set it on my pillow and crouch down once again before the door. I open it to reveal the tunnel and not the brick wall. What? I look to the end of the tunnel to see Mike peeping out from the other door.

"Figure out anything, Eleven?"


	4. 004

Chapter Four ~

 

"Oh yeah Mike, I have completely figured this out,” I say with complete sarcasm.

"Someone's snippy this morning," he says. "Come over here." 

Despite myself not wanting to listen to him, I wrangle up enough courage inside myself and begin crawling his way. As I reach him, he sticks his hand out and I take it as he pulls me out of the small crawlspace.

"Are you okay?" he asks, bringing a hand up to my face and brushing some loose curls to the side.

"I'm fine. Why, do I not look okay or something?"

"No, it just looks as if you've seen a ghost," he says and I shake my head.

"I just got this really...well, extremely creepy doll. She looks like me and everything. It's just weird is all," I shrug and he nods. He holds my gaze for a few moments, almost contemplating what I just told him.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" I shake my head.

"It's just...another thing for you to figure out, Eleven," he says, going back to our previous conversation. "But have you figured out anything? Like how the tunnel wasn't the tunnel while your father was here?"

I stare down at my converse and analyze what I had just encountered. While Papa was with me, behind the door laid a solid brick wall. But, now that I'm alone, it was back again. It's almost as if it didn't want him to know about this whole other realm. However, that would be insinuating it had a mind of its own.

"It only reveals itself to me? The tunnel that is," I say after I'm done thinking. Mike gives me a nod and a look that suggests I continue. "It is almost as if it only wants me to know what it leads to."

"Good job, detective," he muses, clapping his hands. "One down, countless more to go. As for now, I would like for you to follow me if you please."

He turns away and begins walking out of my room in which I follow him. We pass the kitchen and I don't see the other father.

"Where is he?" I ask as we enter the living room.

"Oh, about that," he turns around, "he went 'shopping' and set up this thing where he would know when you came back. So, I snipped the wires so he can't come now because he doesn't know you're here."

"Why would you do that? He's just trying to be nice to me. He is one of my fathers after all. He might even be better than the real, adoptive asshole I deal with," I reply and he lets out a loud laugh.

"Nice, right. That evil thing being nice? That's funny. Wait here," he says, finishing up his chuckle. He turns back towards the door and opens it as quickly as he closed it. I go and press my ear to the door in order to see if he is saying anything.

"Oh look, the midget gremlin and her tall crony is back," he says and I get confused as to who he is talking to.

"Well, if isn't the disobedient little boy who master curses everyday," I hear Max’s voice spit back.

"He only curses me because he realized I am too smart and cannot be controlled," he fires back.

"You're anything but smart, more like disobedient," Lucas’ voice sounds.

"Well, you two should just go back to shining your buttons. I'm just going to go grab something to eat," Mike replies.

I can hear a door close and Mike opens the one to my apartment. He motions for me to follow him out. He begins running down the hall and I run with him. At the end of the hallway, he opens a door and pushes me inside before shutting the door behind him. I straighten my grey shirt as I look around. My mouth hangs open as I realize what the room holds. It is a vast white space, half of it though was completely made out of glass windows. The floor was a sleek silver, but what caught my attention the most was the black grand piano near the window. I run over there immediately and graze my hands over the keys.

"Welcome to my fort," Mike says and I look at him.

"As if this is much of a fort. This is beautiful."

"You know you have a room like this is your apartment complex, right? The evil one created everything in the building to be better than it actually is so that you like it better here,” his face freezes. “Oops, shouldn't have said that."

"Two down, one less than countless to go, right?" I smile at him for probably the first time and he lets out a small laugh.

"I really have to go see it in my apartment then. It's probably all old and rusty," I say to him.

"Who knows. Can you play piano?" he asks suddenly.

"Yep, it's actually what I do for a living. I write music and then, producers buy it for whoever they agent. It's nice to know that I might have a piano back at my actual home. I couldn't bring the one from my father’s house."

"Play me something you wrote," he says as I sit down on the bench.

"Quick question first. What's up with Max and Lucas? It sounds like they genuinely hate you," I laugh.

"Write this one down, Eleven. God, I'm being so generous today. Basically, he makes his minions hate me because I am the evil one who figured him out."

"Woah, he makes them?" I ask in shock.

"Damn it," he says, clearly upset he told me that also.

"Is that why they brought up someone named master? Because it's him?"

"Finally, figured something out for yourself. Claps for you, Eleven. Now that I have divulged more into the tragedies of this place, play me something you wrote," he says sarcastically. I turn to the piano and rest my fingers on the ivory keys. I smile to myself as my fingers begin playing the soft, slow notes.

"Mind if I sing?" I look over at him as I keep playing. He shakes his head, his bottom lip between his teeth. With that, I begin singing the slow notes that accompany the music I am playing. I become so enthralled in the song that I forget Mike is even there. My heart is in the entire song and as I finish it, I can't help but grin cheesily. I take my hands off of the keys as soon as I finish and look over at Mike who looks at me with obvious intent.

"Thoughts? I know that it was a love song and you are a guy and probably aren't into that kind of stuff, but-" I begin, but he cuts me off by pressing his index finger to my lips.

"It was beautiful," he says. He opens his mouth again, but clamps it shut.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's stupid, forget it. Play me something else."

"As long as I get to ask you three questions."

"Fine, but then I'm done with questions," he rebuttals and I nod.

"What's your full name?"

"Michael Wheeler. How is that important?" he asks me quizzically.

"It's my questions so, I obviously find them important even if you don't know why I want to know them. Next one, how old are you?"

"I turned twenty back in December so, if my own detective skills are intact, then we are the same age," he smiles and I let out a laugh.

"Last thing, how old were you when you first came here?"

"Sixteen, Eleven. So, yes, I have been stuck here for four years," he says and I gasp. Four years ago, he first came here and he still hasn't left. I open my mouth to ask something else, but he stops me. "You said three questions and then you would play a song. I kept up my end of the bargain now, you keep up yours."

I huff a breath and play something else for him, singing along as I do. Once again, it was another slow song and I could feel his stare on me the entire time. I turn my head to him as I play the last few notes and my suspicion was in fact correct.

"Staring were you?" I ask.

"Well, I wasn't going to look out the window. You should get going," he says, looking down at his watch.

"Why?"

"You and your questions,” he rolls his eyes even though he is smiling. “If you must know, the evil one checks on me at eleven o'clock every day and it's ten fifty-five. If she knew you were here with me, hell would break loose for both of us," he says, standing up, pulling me up as well. We run to the door and he peeks his head out and motions for me to go run back to my apartment with him. Luckily, no one was in the hall this time so, we barge into my living room with ease. We speed walk to my room and I open the door.

"Come back tomorrow at the same time," he says and I nod a goodbye before crawling through the tunnel to my actual room. When I arrive, I turn around to see Mike fixing the tracking device the other father set up.

"Shut your door or this will go off," he warns and I do as he says. I trace my finger on the door's border, mulling over all the information Mike has told me. I immediately go over to one of my unpacked boxes and pull out my laptop. I turn it on and pull up Google. In the search box, I input his name and practically millions of results come up. The first one has a picture of Mike looking younger than now. I read the header and I feel my face go pale. Michael Wheeler, 16 Year Old, Missing Case. I click onto the article in order to see what it reads.

"Michael Wheeler, aged 16, went missing on March 9, 2010. His supposed last known whereabouts were at home. According to his mother and father, Karen and Ted, no one was home with him. His sisters, Nancy and Holly, were not in Hawkins on the night of Wheeler’s disappearance. He had been quite enthralled with his bedroom lately. He would become very secretive and freeze when someone would enter according to his mother. On the night of his disappearance, it was clear that there was no break in and the alarm set in the house did not go off, meaning he did not leave the home. When his parents returned, Mike was no where to be found, almost as if he had disappeared into thin air. No possible escape routes were found in the home nor in his bedroom. Many have been on the case trying to figure out what happened to Mike and where he went, but nothing has been figured out. The case will be closed March 9, 2014. After four years, it is obvious that Michael Wheeler, now aged 20, is deceased."

My eyes bulge as I read the article. It clearly seems as though Mike just disappeared, but how is that even possible? No evidence was found as to where he had gone or how he had left. The line that sticks with me the most is the one of how he was supposedly obsessed with his bedroom. Nothing was found in it out of the ordinary, but then again they may have not known what they were looking for. I glance around my own room and then it hits me. He had the same door as I do. But, it had to have disappeared for the detectives not to find it. Perhaps the other father got rid of it? Did Mike have the same other father? I think more and then his earlier conversation strikes me. The one of how he refused 'master's' gift. Is that why he is stuck there? Whatever the gift must be, it must be horrible and cryptic. He must be stuck there so that no one knows about it. My head is reeling at my conclusions. I have to ask Mike about them all tomorrow.

I shut my laptop and rub my temples at my discoveries. After that, I need to relax a bit. I stand up from my bed and decide to go see if we have a piano in this building after all. I walk through my apartment and down the hallway. I am faced with a dirtier version of the door I came in contact with before. I open it and glance around inside. When Mike said the other father tried to make things better, he wasn't kidding. The room before me is much smaller and has cracked wooden flooring. The wallpaper is peeling off and the piano sits up against the wall. Empty picture frames hang crooked on the wall and various knick knacks lay all over the room. The only window is behind the piano, letting only a small amount of light in. I walk over to the piano and press a random key to see that it is in fact out of tune. The Papa clearly went all out.

I should listen to Mike more often.


	5. 005

Chapter Five ~

Papa mindlessly rambles through the receiver of my cell phone, ranting that I had once again not called him. Tuning him out, I continue scrolling through the articles that pop up when I search for Mike. His words aren’t even processing in my brain as I read practically all the same information over and over again. 

"Do you understand?" he spits out suddenly.

"Yep," I reply, not even sure what I'm agreeing to.

"You better young lady, because if anything like this happens again, you're coming straight back home," he says before hitting the end button. Finally.

After realizing that the piano in the other room was far from fixing by myself, I returned to my cozy flat, plopped myself on my bed and continued my research. Then, the horrid creature that is my father called and well the rest is already spoken for. None of the articles popping up on the web search seemed remotely different so, I was basically just scrolling, not going on any pages.

I was about to give up when one thumbnail caught my attention: Michael Wheeler | Facebook. This could be useful. I click on it and automatically, I see pictures of him and statuses back from four years ago. Hundreds of messages scatter his board all in various forms of "We miss you" and "Rest in peace." I click onto the box that leads me to all of his pictures and I aimlessly scroll through them.

The first is what I assume to be a picture of him and his mother right before he went missing. Next, I see a picture of him with his lips connected to a small blonde haired girl's. He never told me he was seeing anyone. I check to see if the picture was tagged but, unfortunately, it was not, another thing I would have to ask Mike about. I continue scrolling, not thinking of anything much until I reach the first picture he had ever posted. It dates the same year he went missing and it appears to be a picture of him smiling at nothing in particular in his bedroom. Not taking more of a glimpse at it, I click off and shut my laptop down.

My mind tries to form coherent thoughts about what is going on but, unfortunately, that plan fails miserably. There are so many new things that I have to decipher and figure out now. I can't even think if following Mike’s words is a benefit or not. Perhaps the real evil one is him. But, then again, how can I say that? He doesn't have buttons, everyone there in the makeshift realm appears to hate him, and he has been trying to keep me safe. But, what if it's all an act? Sure, there seem to be actual records of him, but who knows if he has accessibility to alter whatever he wants. I sound crazy right now, don't I? It is all so strange what I am encountering. Nothing seems to be anywhere near logical anymore. I need to talk to someone seemingly normal...Dustin. Maybe he knows something about this. What if this whole thing is just a big joke? I need to go talk to him. 

I jump off my bed and immediately, I grab my car keys from my bedside table. I walk out the door of my apartment and down the lifeless hallway all the way downstairs. I practically run to my car due to the pounding lightning sounding from the sky. I put the key into the ignition and begin driving along the decrepit set of roads to the market Dustin works at. What I was going to ask him still hadn't settled in my mind but, I just needed to talk to someone seemingly normal.

Upon my arrival, I notice that he was standing behind the counter, looking beyond bored.

"Hi," I call, walking over to him.

"Oh hey, Jane. What brings you here?" he asks, closing the magazine he was reading.

"Nothing much really. I guess I was just tired being cooped up in that tiny apartment all day. But, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go right ahead," he replies, leaning forward on his elbows.

"That doll you gave me...you said your Nana had it?"

"Yeah, I was just cleaning out her garage a few hours after I first met you and it was in one of the boxes. Why?" he asks.

"No particular reason. I was just curious is all. I mean her having a doll that practically is me was just creeping me out a little," I admit and he lets out a small laugh.

"You know...I've never actually been inside Wimbley before," he says.

"Really? Why's that?"

"Well, you see my Nana grew up there and she used to have this twin sister...Elaine I think. Well, one day, Elaine just went missing. No one ever knew what happened to her, almost as if she just disappeared out of plain sight. So, basically, Nana just likes me to stay out of there for my own safety. That's also why it surprised me she rented it to you," he explains and I gasp. She has the same story as Mike, disappearing out of plain sight.

"Oh...it's pretty nice inside," I say, but feel the urge to leave and go talk to Mike. "I should get going.”

He nods a goodbye.

I walk out of the shop as quickly as possible. Everything Dustin just told me ties directly to what I have learned about Mike. I drive to my apartment haphazardly due to the fact of coming to a discovery as well as being slightly scared. I scurry up the stairs upon my arrival and immediately, swing open the door to my apartment. I throw my purse on my bed and make my way to the door. I unlock it and begin crawling through the tunnel. The door facing me is closed so, with much force, I push it open. I stand up and brush off my clothes.

"Mike?" I call out but, receive no response. I begin glancing around my entire room and when I do not see him, I start walking out of my room. I can see that the light in the kitchen is on so, I walk over there immediately.

"Mike, I have so many things to tell-" I start, but stop when I realize it is actually the other Papa. I thought Mike said he could cut the wires so he wouldn't know I was here.

"Jane, dear! I've missed you! And you're just in time for breakfast!" he says, flipping a pancake on the stove top.

"Great," I say, a little scared that he's back.

"Would you be a good child and go set the table for me?" he smiles creepily and I nod. I go over to the cabinet with the table cloths and grab a white-blue patterned one. I hurry over to the kitchen table and begin taking care of it. My mind becomes muddled at the fact of that Mike is nowhere to be seen. I recall him telling me that if the other father found out we were talking to each other, it would be bad but, then again, that doesn't make complete sense to me. I finish putting out plates and utensils when the other Papa places a generous amount of pancakes on the table.

"Sit. I'll get the syrup," he coos and goes to the cupboard to retrieve it. He returns with it and he insists on me using some, in which I do.

"Now, Jane..." he starts after finishing up a mouthful of the fluffy cake, "we need to talk about something."

I gulp. Whatever he has to say must not be good.

"I know that you have made an...alliance with Mike," he says and I can feel my eyes go wide with fear. His right hand taps on the tabletop, only adding to my nerves. He nods at me, almost trying to say to verify what he just said.

"Yes, that is true," I state, taking a large gulp of the milk in my glass. This is not going to end well.

"I'm not upset, Jane, relax," he laughs softly at me and I chuckle nervously. "Don't get me wrong, Mike is a nice boy and all but, befriending him can lead you astray to dangers. I want you to be friends with him, I do, but I just needed to make some adjustments to him," he says, standing up. His buttons glimmer in the light, intensifying the tension in my mind.

"How could he bring me to danger...Papa?' I ask, unsure of myself. He takes his empty plate and my generally full dish to the sink and begins to wash them. He turns back to me from his position at the sink and smiles a devious smile. I can see that he is gripping the countertop with much force, almost as if he was trying to hold himself back from something.

"He likes planting foolish ideas into naive souls' heads. Not that you are naive, my dearest, but when someone like Mike is talking to you, I would imagine it is not hard to believe all of his words."

"Are you insinuating that he is giving me false information about you?" I ask. I can see his grip on the counter tighten and I gulp again. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

"Yes, of course he is. I am so much more wonderful than he cares to realize," he says, turning back to the sink, almost as if he couldn't look at me. I could tell that I upset him with my question by the way he begins to scrub the plates, but I choose to ignore it.

"I don't doubt that," I say, trying to kiss up to him a little, "I mean what you've done for me so far is incredible. I'm sure I can never thank you enough." 

He turns his head back at me and smiles. This action tells me that I have pleased him, which gives me a sense of relief.

"But as for Mike...you can still be friends. I just fixed him up a bit already," he replies and I can feel my cheeks go pale. Terror pulses through my veins at the thought of what he could have done.

"Oh...wonderful," I speak, standing up and walking next to him. He glances over at me and smiles. I return the gesture slightly.

"As a matter of fact, let me call him," he says and calls his name. Soon enough, Mike walks in, a big and bright smile on his face. When I look at him in the eyes, I can see that they aren't shimmering like they were yesterday. They are almost pleading at me for help.

"Hi?" I start, suddenly unsure of myself around him and the other Papa. He waves rather than speaking and I feel the corners of my eyes crinkle at the lack of response.

"Well you two run along," the other Papa muses. "Be back by lunch."

He removes his hands from the soapy dishwater and wraps me in a hug, stroking my hair at the same time. After a few seconds, he releases me and tends back to the sink. I walk over to Mike and grab his arm, dragging him out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

"What's up with you?" I ask him immediately. He doesn't move his lips an inch but, looks down. He reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a board and a marker. He begins to write.

"Is this really necessary?" I plea, raising my arms in the process. He nods and continues to write. After a few more words, he hands the board to me.

My punishment for talking to you about him? Sewing my mouth shut. 

I bring my head up to him and my mouth drops open.

"No," I shake my head and he nods. I reach my hands up to his face and brush my fingertips up to the corners of his lips. I can feel the thread notched on the inner portion of his mouth. This makes sense as to why the smile on his face is a little over exaggerated. I run my fingers over the rest of his lips to see that it is just the corners of his mouth that are sewn into a tight, unmovable smile.

"That had to hurt. I'm sorry," I say to him solemnly and he rolls his eyes. He takes the board and begins writing again.

Eleven, don't you dare have pity on me. But, now you have to admit this just proves he is not what he appears to be.

I look at him and nod my head quickly. He grabs my hand and leads me into the piano room he showed me yesterday. He opens and shuts the door with ease and leads me over to the windows. Mike motions for me to sit next to him from his position on the floor and I don't hesitate. Any and all suspicion of him being the evil behind all of this vanishes my mind. As I think about my earlier thoughts, he begins scribbling on the board again.

What have you figured out now, Eleven?

I look at him intently in his brown eyes as I recite all my possible leads. I begin with my visit with Dustin and as I speak, he nods as if what I am saying is correct. I then bring up the fact that I found the article about what happened to him as well as my other conclusions about it. He looks down at his lap as I tell him what I remember, almost as if he was in sorrow. Before I can go on about finding his Facebook page, he begins writing on his board. I can see his stick-like writing multiply as he records his reply.

Well, you got a lot of information, Eleven. As for the article about me, everything it said was true. I was enthralled with it for reasons you have already mentioned. I had the same door you do. And, yes, the evil asshole did control it as he does with yours. And you're also right with the fact that he took it away after I came here. And as for Elaine, our stories are quite similar. Quick hint though, I actually saw her just before I came to your apartment this morning. She's here specifically...along with two others. More of a mystery now, eh?

I find myself having to read his words over and over again to have them process in my mind. Elaine, Dustin’s aunt, is here right now hidden away somewhere. Somewhere that Mike knows about. And to think that there are other people there with her makes me shiver. After having a minor celebration of my conclusions being correct, I go into how I found his social media page. I tell him of all the messages posted and then, divulge into the pictures. When I talk of his mother, I can see his eyes falter but, he quickly resettles. And then I go on about the girl he was kissing in the picture. His eyes almost seem to go cold at the mention of her, which surprises me since they were in a relationship and all. He begins writing again and I study his figure as he does. He is a good distance taller than me and his hair appears to be naturally messy, but a good messy. I notice the myriad of freckles lining his cheeks and nose. The specks complimented his high cheekbones. Before I can continue my staring, he hands me back the board.

Wasn't that a great picture of my mother? She was, and hopefully still is, a wonderful person. She was just always there for you, you know? I looked up to her so much growing up. And I was just waiting until you would bring up my ex-girlfriend, Belle. She was nice and I'm pretty sure I loved her as much as high school romances go. And probably what hurts the most is  
that the reason I hate her now isn't even her fault. You've met Belle before, a copy of her that is. Take a guess. Oh, and stop staring, Eleven.

My initial reaction to the last sentence is to roll my eyes, which I do. However, I turn more somber for the rest. I smile as he talks about his mother but, my face falls when he brings up Belle. I've met her? How is that even possible? I think for a moment and reread the sentence only to catch the part where he says I've met a copy of Belle. I think about this world, perhaps since he was on this journey before me. The other father must have the capability of changing what is here, but who could it be? I think about all the other people here and past events and then, it hits me.

"Max. It has to be Max. When you talked that one time, you had such great hatred for her as she did for you. And Lucas defended her almost as if they were together. When you were here, Max had to be Belle," I say to him and he begins clapping sarcastically. I let out a laugh. 

"So the other Papa reuses people, how nice. It's almost as if they are dolls or something.”

Mike’s eyes go wide at my statement and I give him a questioning look. He begins writing again, quicker than before.

That's right. I didn't think you would get that this quickly. They are dolls. He makes them to be carbon copies of those we know. Wow, Eleven. You did better than I thought.

My breathing intensifies as I read his words. Dolls? How can you make living dolls? That's just sick. This is getting worse the deeper I get into it. I look over to Mike with wide eyes and he nods his head. I begin to rant on about what he just told me, showing my disbelief at the new possible impossibility. As I talk, he motions for me to continue while he scribbles something down. He hands me the board after I'm done talking.

Aren't you at all curious as to how he found out we were talking?

I nod my head and he begins writing again. I keep thinking over the new leads and conclusions I have discovered and my mind keeps reeling it over, almost as if I'm afraid I won't remember it. I am too busy in my own mind that I don't realize he has finished writing.

That doll Dustin gave you is how he found out. It's button eyes allow him to see anything it sees because his eyes are the same. So, you keeping it on your bed allowed the evil asshole to see you and I talking. I didn't know you had the doll in that room. Otherwise, I would have fixed the wires. The doll is his spy basically. It allows him to see whatever you're doing. Cryptic, right?

"He really is into this whole dolls and buttons thing, isn't he?" I laugh and he nods with his tight grin. "I'm really sorry about your mouth though. When did he do it?"

As soon as you left. There was a lot of screaming and sharp needles and I don't even want to think about it. But, now, the biggest part of your quest is to figure out why I'm stuck here. Oh, and look back at my first Facebook picture. I think you missed something.

I open my mouth to reply, but a knock is heard at the door.

"Jane, lunch is ready. Can you come out now?" the other Papa’s voice speaks. I call back an ‘okay” quite reluctantly but, I know I have to go. I can see Mike wiping at the board quickly before stuffing it back into his jacket. We both stand up from our position on the floor and meekly make our way over to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I promise," I look at him, offering a small smile and he nods. He urges me to go out, in which I do. The other Papa stands across from me, a huge smile playing at his lips. I shut the door behind me and he begins talking about the lunch he made which I find out is grilled cheese and tomato soup. I am still not used to hearing him talk about cuisine he made himself. He begins to walk into my apartment when Max opens the door to her own apartment. Seeing her as she is now completely changes my opinion of her. I mean, I don't think she can control who the other Papa makes her into but, still, she was a replica of Mike’s girlfriend. I don't know what she did but, whatever it must have been, it had to have been bad.

"Jane! How have you been? I haven't seen you in a few days," she begins in a perky tone. I go to reply but, my other Papa cuts me off, saying that we needed to go eat. So, Max goes back into her apartment. I enter my own one and my other Papa once again guides me to the table and I sit down. As I sink my teeth into the gooey sandwich, he asks me a question.

"What did you and Mike do?" he says, ladling me some soup. I obviously know I need to lie or else things would get worse for him.

"Oh, just looked out the window and played the piano," I say, dipping the sandwich in the soup. She nods, believing my lie and lets me eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Michael :(
> 
> I hope the story is okay so far!! Thank you for all the hits and comments! They make my day and inspire me to keep writing!!
> 
> ~Veronica


	6. 006

Chapter Six ~

I wipe the cold sweat that forms on my forehead as I make my way to Will’s apartment. Upon returning home from my adventure in the other realm, I found a note slipped under my door.

'Come for dinner. W.'

With the crumpled note in my hand, I nervously wander to my neighbor's apartment. I raise my hand to the ornate oak door and as soon as one knock sounds, the door swings open. I recognize Will in front of me and he gestures me inside. I cautiously make my way to the surprisingly well-kept threshold and my eyes widen when I see the pictures that adorn the walls.

As I had previously figured out, Will was an artist. When I first met him, he had smears of various hues on his nose and cheeks. I thought at the time that art was just a hobby of his, but now, I can tell it's his profession. His face is plastered on every single poster. The inscriptions varied from "A New Take on the World of Art” and "Twenty-One Year Old Brings Personal Emotion to Paintings.” One section of the wall is dedicated to what appears to be an enormous amount of fan mail.

"I didn't realize you were this popular," I admit, turning to face Will. He flashes me a wide-toothed grin and I find myself smiling back.

"Follow me," he speaks suddenly. I listen to his words and we make our way past a velvet curtain, revealing the dining area. I can see one of the four chairs pushed in and I follow Will. He pulls out the chair at the head of the table for me and I say a quick thank you while sitting down. He goes over to the cabinet that is backed up against the wall and turns on a record player. Music that I'm not familiar with fills the room as Will opens a pan to reveal a succulent looking ham. Seeing this instantly reminds me of my first visit to the other dimension. I smile slightly when I realize that's when I first met Mike.

"Thank you for inviting me," I pipe up as Will begins to carve the ham. He looks my way immediately and sends me a smile. After a few more moments, we both have ham on our plates along with some mashed potatoes, this also reminding me of the other world.

I pick up my fork and knife and cut into the meat as soon as Will does same. As soon as the bite is in my mouth, I want to spit it out. It lacked a tremendous amount of seasoning and it was probably the driest meat I had ever had in my life. I scooped up a little bit of the mashed potatoes and after popping it into my mouth, I had to down lots of water for the taste to go away. I looked up at Will who was eating away gleefully, not even glancing in my direction.

"Do you like apartment?' Will asks randomly, using the limited amount of words I’m already accustomed to. The greeter downstairs informed me when I first arrived that Will has been through trauma. He keeps to himself and does not engage much in conversation.

"Yeah, I do," I reply, taking another large gulp of my water. The conversation becomes dry after that, with nothing more than soft chewing noises and gruff coughs. The tension fills the air thickly and I start to become uncomfortable. I attempt to eat more of the food that is prepared but, after many relentless attempts, I find myself struggling to continue.

"Learn about future?" Will states randomly.

"How can you teach me about my future?" I laugh and he immediately slides out of his chair.

He goes into the closet right of the dining room. That's odd. He returns quickly with a dusted over box and he sets it on the table in front of me. Will brushes the dust off of the top of the box and I can make out "Hypothesis Set" in gold leaf writing. I give him a look as he takes the lid off. I begin to have a slight coughing fit at the cloud of dust that arises in front of me. Will doesn’t seem to notice. Rather, he begins taking out the contents of the box. He pulls out a leather-bound book, white candles, a frail paintbrush with missing bristles, and a canister of blood red acrylic paint. Will begins to light the candles with a book of matches he has in his pocket. He then pulls the lid off of the paint canister. After he turns off the lights in the room, Will hands me the paint brush, the tip swirled in red. The music in the background makes the entire scene even odder and eerier, almost as if it was planned. I can see Will thumbing through the pages of the book after he places a hand over mine. I give him a quizzical glance. 

"Close your eyes, paint what you see," he whispers. 

I nod suspiciously, closing my eyelids. His grip on my hand loosens slightly and I can see an outline of light in the darkness of my mind. My hand almost seems to move by way of a string, moving quickly at its strokes. I gasp awake, eyes wide and the paintbrush falls on the table cloth.

He takes the painting off of the table immediately. After comparing my painting to several pages in his notebook, he gasps. My system goes cold. If he is as brilliant as the media makes him to be, then he has to be right about whatever is outlined in my painting.

"What do you see?" I gulp as he whispers to himself. He shuts his eyes before looking again, dropping the paper this time. This only makes me more nervous. Will holds his notebook guide out to me with a shaky hand. I glance between both figures.

The page shows a picture of a mechanical hand and my eyebrows notch together in confusion. I take the painting from off the table to see the hand formed in bright, thick strokes of red acrylic. I begin to read the inscription beside the notebook picture, only making my eyes grow wider.

'Beldam's Grasp- Receiving this symbol in a painting only sends a direct message of death. The beldam, or wizard, is said to live among us, in plain sight yet, not really where we would expect. Being one of the ugliest and cruelest supposed mythical creatures, the beldam is made entirely of needles, spokes, and rods. Although this may not be seen at first, upsetting the beldam will only inflict this appearance. The grasp of the beldam ensures one's most positive death. This omen, although extremely rare to receive, is not to be taken lightly. Watch your back and mind your alliances or else, the beldam will keep you in his hold forever.'

"This has to be a joke," I say, standing up, unsure if I should believe something as crazy as this. I haven't met anyone like this. No one can be this way. Will shakes his head, only getting me more upset.

"Thank you for dinner. I have to go," I state and immediately run to the door. As soon as I come into the safe confines of my apartment, I slide down the door in confusion. As much as my outburst was embarrassing, this can't be the truth. I rake a hand through my hair and try to think if I can make any connection to the crazy past minutes. I begin to think and then a sudden realization overcomes me.

Mike always warns me about not believing the other Papa. He always warns me that he isn't what he appears to be. If what my painting said was true, is it possible that the other Papa isn't so much of a doll, but a beldam? My instincts tell me to stand up and walk over to the little door in my room. I hesitate in front of it. Now that I am uncovering the truth even more, the scariness of the other dimension I have discovered is intensifying.

Following my first instincts, I begin to crawl through the space once again. I notice that the streaming purple and green lights that usually splay around the tunnel are now darker. 

When I reach the door at the end of the tunnel, the door won't budge open no matter how hard I push at it. I raise my hand to knock, but I hear voices through the other side. I press my ear to the wood and place my hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing.

"You're getting too close to her," I hear the other Papa spit out.

"I'm sorry," I hear Mike glumly say. I thought he couldn't speak? That is, unless he untied the thread.

"Don't apologize just maintain your distance. Or else..." he drifts off.

"Or else what?" Mike gulps.

"I'll throw you into the mirror," the other Papa cuts back sharply. I can practically hear the mischievous smile in his voice. Mike doesn't reply at first and the other Papa begins to laugh. How can you throw someone into a mirror?

"I think you understand," the other Papa huffs after he is finished laughing. "Time to sew your mouth shut again. Maybe when you learn to be distant, you can talk to her again."

After that, all I can hear is Mike screaming in protest and the other Papa yelling at him to stay still. My heart pounds at the noise coming through the door. If he is the beldam, the inscription in Will's book is right: he is a cruel creature.

Not wanting to hear anymore of Mike’s loud shrieks, I turn around and shuffle through the mesh once again. I lock the door as soon as my entire body is out of the space. I just put my head in my hands. The entire situation is taking several turns for the worst. I need to figure out the rest of this jigsaw-like puzzle and then, find out what Mike’s whole purpose in making me figure this all out is. Whatever it may be, it must be a way to help us both. Maybe it will even put the other Papa to a rest at his actions.

I slowly stand up, more questions overcoming me. Is the other Papa really a beldam? What is the mirror he threatened to throw Mike in? What does this have to do with what I'm trying to figure out? I immediately know that there is only one person who I can certainly talk to about all of this now. And with that last thought, I make my way back to Will’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love will byers so much ok


	7. 007

Chapter Seven ~

 

"You hear arguing?" Will begins after I retell my account of the past events. My hand is shaking, causing my teacup to clatter against the saucer. After hearing what was going on behind the tiny door, I became more frightened of the other Papa. I mean, who wouldn't be after hearing that? I give a brief nod, trying to contain my contemplation. Will turns around from a cupboard and sets down a plate of shortbread cookies.

"Eat one. Sugar helps," he rambles and feeling the emptiness in my stomach arise, I oblige. This, unlike the meal he had prepared, obtained flavor. I munched down on the sweet, trying to clear my head. I can see Will silently talk to himself, his words coming out as breaths.

"What am I going to do?" I begin now that I have a clear thought. "I need to get him out of there."

At my words, he snaps his head towards me. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me.

"At least tell me what the mirror is," I huff at the lack of response.

"Confinement," Will states.

"Please elaborate."

Will glances at me before turning out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I whisper-shout at the lack of help he are currently giving me. Will hushes me and I put my head in my hands. How am I going to get Mike out of there? I hear footsteps shuffling back into the room, but I decide against looking at whatever he has. Soon enough, I hear sketching on a paper which immediately makes my shoot my head up. From the angle at which the paper is sat, I can't see what is being drawn. I sit in anxious anticipation at what he could be showing me. After a few minutes, the sketch is turned to face me.

Will has drawn me a mirror. But, this was nothing of the kind I had ever seen. It is a profile view with rarely anything on the left side, but with a vast room on the right, the inside of the mirror. It is a room illuminated by a single blue light and a bed in the corner. The walls have water running down the side, but the weirdest part of the entire thing, was the three figures that sat on the bed. Their faces seem to be staring back at me in a cryptic, pleading way.

The tallest figure looks to be a girl with curly long hair and a bonnet on her head. Her lavish, yet worn-down dress signifies that she isn’t from this time period. The boy in the middle has short shaggy hair and is dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a vest, also telling me he is approximately from the 70's. The last figure is a little girl, no more than the age of 10. She has vintage black glasses adorning her face and what appears to be a poodle skirt. This information telling me she was from the 50's. The only similarity I could pick up from the three was the not-so-shocking buttons in the crevices of their eyelids.

"What are they?" I ask, suddenly looking up at Will.

"Spirits," he replies. I drop my head back down to the drawing and with this information, I can see that the light source is actually their frail bodies. I run the picture through my mind, thinking as to how this could be relevant and suddenly, Dustin’s words enter my mind. 'Well, you see, my Nana grew up there and she used to have this twin sister...Elaine, I think. Well, one day, Elaine just went missing. No one ever knew what happened to her, almost as if she just disappeared out of plain sight.' My eyes avert to the little girl on the right. Could this be Elaine?

"Do you know their names?" I ask, still focusing my view on the little one.

"Ada, Levi, and..." Will starts. He shakes his head trying to figure out the last one. He finally snaps his fingers.

"Elaine," he says, creating a breakthrough. My heart swells with adrenaline at her name. I have finally located Dustin’s aunt and two other lost souls in that wicked other world. But, didn’t Mike say there were 10 before me? Where had the rest gone? I have to tell Mike. I have to. But, then again, with the other Papa still sewing him up, it might be best if I wait until tomorrow.

"Can I keep this?" I ask, lifting the paper off of the surface. He nods and I give him a smile and a ‘thank you’ before exiting.

-

"Back for more?" Dustin smiles from behind the counter. I saunter over to him as I rest my elbows on the counter. I am well aware that telling him I have found his ancient, lost aunt would simply suggest that I belong in a mental asylum. Instead, I just shoot him a grin back.

"I'm off in a few minutes. If you want, I can show you around town since you're still fairly new here," he suggests. I can see a patch of pink rise on his cheeks and my grin widens.

"I'd love too," I reply. I back away from the counter so, he can finish up his shift. I peruse through the dingy aisles of the now familiar convenient store. My finger glides along the disintegrating packages as my boots click against the tiled floor. The serene mood of the store is defiantly kicking in and I can feel myself relaxing from the drama of the day. I peer   
back at the counter and sure enough, Dustin is slipping on a coat and grabbing his keys.

"Do you want to travel in two cars or...?" he starts as we walk out of the store.

"I can go drop this off at the building and then, go with you," I suggest, stopping in front of my own car. With a quick nod of agreement, we get into our respective vehicles and drive to the apartment building.

After about ten minutes, we arrive at the complex and I go into his car. It is surprisingly very clean for a boy that works at a very messy location. Dustin begins to turn out of the lot as I perk up.

"Where are we going?" I ask, glancing out the slightly frosted window.

"The most questioned, yet fascinating piece of architecture our quaint little town has to offer," he states. He makes a few more turns and after a few minutes, we arrive at a moderate size, rounded hill.

Dustin gestures for me to get out of the car in which, I do. I follow him up the winding dirt pathways with its pink cherry blossom trees on either side. The overcast from the slowly setting sun made the scene feel calm and almost soothing. We reach an open, circular area of land and Dustin stops.

"Any guesses?" he says, motioning to the spot. I walk around, not sure if I see anything. There are a few branches here and there and this little ring of daisies in the center. But, otherwise, I can't pick up anything out of the ordinary.

"Watch where you stand or you might fall in," Dustin chuckles. 

My forehead creases in disarray at this comment, but he gently drags me away from the crown of daisies. Stick in hand, he begins to dig one side of the circle and my eyes bulge as I see a wooden surface emerging. He opens the wooden cover with the branch and after a quick peer down, I can confirm that it's a well.

"What makes this so special?" I shake my head.

"It's supposedly so deep that if you were to fall in, you would be able to see a sky full of stars in the middle of the day," he announces. I raise my eyebrows in curiosity and look into it once again. The sides are bricked and have a slight cream tinge to its grooves. The bottom, as predicted, is black and appears bottomless.

"How deep is it exactly?"

"No one knows for sure," he says, breaking off a piece from the branch. He drops it into the well and counts the passing seconds until we hear a Plunk! from the collision.

"It's thirty-three seconds deep, so I guess you can do the math," he chuckles, closing the cap over the exposed surface.

"I'd rather not. I might freak myself out."

Dustin laughs again and I smile at my own slightly witty remark. When he's finished covering the well, he makes his way over to me and out of nowhere, kisses me. I open my eyes and shove him off immediately.

"I'm sorry...I just-" he stammers, cheeks bright red and mouth agape.

"It's okay. I just didn't expect that," I cut him off. I stand there in shock, eyes widening.

"I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry. It just... happened," he explains. I stand there in shock. It just feels wrong in an inexplicable way.

"That wasn't your first kiss right?" he asks, breaking the awkward tension in a horrible way.

"No, of course not! I'm not thirteen!" I say, suddenly angry at his action.

"Right. Of course not."

"I think I want to go home now," I state, turning away from him. I can hear him walking and I take that as my cue to do the same thing. We remain in silence, an awkward tension building again between the two of us. We also remain quiet throughout the entire car ride. I knew Dustin felt bad for what he had done, but that still didn't give him the right to kiss me after we've only known each other for a few weeks.

"I'll see you soon?" he asks, as I step out of the car. I give a quick nod of my head as I turn on my heels and walk into the apartment building.

-

The next morning, I freshen up and go straight to the other world. Upon my arrival, I hear the other Papa call my name from his obvious position in the kitchen. I warily make my way over to him since my fear has increased over the past twenty-four hours. He stands at the stove, cooking more breakfast food.

"Jane, darling. Welcome back," he smiles. As if on a schedule, he finishes cooking the bacon on the pan before ladling it onto a plate of eggs.

"Thank you," I huff as I begin to chomp down on the warm food. I can feel his eyes, or should I say ‘buttons,’ on me the entire time as I eat. I cough and look as she smiles wider.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" he asks, nibbling on some bacon.

"Can I talk to Mike?" I blurt out. I immediately regret it as I say it. His face falls, but then re-positions itself to its smiling guise.

"Of course, but only after you eat," he proposes and I nod. He opens his mouth to speak again, but a knock sounds from the door. He goes to see who it is, leaving me alone.

I push out my chair and begin to look at the kitchen to see if I can find whatever he uses to sew up Mike’s lips. I need to talk to him about everything and I need answers fast. I couldn't wait for him to scribble down his thoughts. I need his words as soon as he thinks of them. After mindlessly searching through a few of the cupboards, I find a pair of scissors, a needle, and black thread taped up behind the sink. I take them quickly and manage to stuff the items into my pocket just as the other Papa returns with Mike.

"I was telling Mike how you wanted to see him," he smiles, a rather strained smile. Mike looks the same as he did yesterday. Over-exaggerated smile, ruffled hair - nothing seems to have changed. The other Papa glances between the two of us and I feel frozen in my position at his alarming stare.

"Well, run along," he informs, turning to the table and picking everything up. I bolt out of the room, Mike hot on my tail. We manage to make it to the piano room in a matter of seconds and after he shuts the door, I take the objects from my pocket.

"I'm cutting that string. And then, and only then, will I tell you of the things I have discovered," I announce. His eyes widen while his hands shake in protest.

"Mike, I don't care if he chastises me. I need to talk to you."

He continues his act until he finally becomes relentless and shows me exactly where I need to cut the thick string. When the shreds are down on the floor, he massages his jaw with his hand.

"Thanks," he croaks. I sigh at the comforting sound of his voice. He licks his lips and grabs my hand, bringing me over to the spot we always sit at. And for a split second, I imagine Mike kissing me instead of Dustin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the whole Dustin liking El is something quite weird, but it adds to the plot!!!
> 
> But...I can smell Mileven coming...


	8. 008

Chapter Eight ~

I try my best to be nonchalant when talking to Mike that afternoon. There are so many words that just keep pouring out of my mouth as if they are melting chocolate. Revelation upon revelation is falling right into my lap and, of course, I need to burst out with the clues. Mike lets me talk and talk, never once breaking my chatter. His brown eyes stare intently into my own brown pair as I speak.

"And then, there's this," I say, pulling the drawing Will created out of my pocket. Mike’s eyes widen at the sight, clearly something he wasn't expecting.

"Where'd you get this?" he asks and I explain my earlier occurrences. He drops his head down at the mention of his and the other Papa’s argument. I gingerly place a hand over his to signify everything was okay. I continue on and after I finish my assumptions, he shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips.

"You really do have this sleuthing thing down. The mirror that Will showed you is located here. Sadly, I've had my fair share of occurrences with it. And Elaine is there as well. The evil asshole locks up anyone who goes remotely out of line in there. Let me tell you...it is awful," he tells.

"But, in the picture," I start, shaking my head as I speak,"the children just don't look like children. And, I know from Will that they are in fact spirits. But, how did they get like that? And why would they choose to stay here?"

"How about they tell you themselves?" Mike offers and my heart skips a beat. I nod my head in obvious approval and Mike takes my hand, both of us standing up.

"When I don't feel like being alone in this dreary room, I always go to the mirror. As dreadful and as sad as it is, their company holds me over."

Mike and I quietly exit the room and he leads me back to my apartment. He brings his head close to my ear and begins to give me instructions.

"I want you to go in there and just start talking to him while I open up the door. After a minute or so, tell him you need to go to the bathroom, but go to your bedroom,” Mike instructs.   
I nod my head and enter the apartment with Mike quietly sneaking behind me.

"Jane, dear? Are you back?" I hear the other Papa call in his uncharacteristically-soothing voice. Rather than answering him back, I walk into the kitchen where he looks to be preparing chicken noodle soup and a small pizza. Why is he always cooking?

"Back already? How surprising," he chuckles. "Lunch isn't ready, yet so, just have a seat while I finish. Although, if you want, you can try everything to make sure you like it."

"I trust you, Papa. I haven't met anyone that can prepare food as well as you do," I say, trying to feed him compliments. He immediately smiles a hearty smile, one that has the corners of his lips extremely close to his buttoned eyes. He begins to thank me for my praise, something I’ve never heard. Papa thanking me? It’s definitely a rare moment. I simply nod in order to prolong him. 

"If you excuse me, I have to use the restroom," I slowly get up from the table. He smiles, telling me that lunch will be ready in five minutes.

I make my way over to my bedroom and sure enough, Mike stands beside my wall length mirror.

"It's really in there?" I ask. He nods before grabbing my hand.

"You basically just need to run into it while your arm is out. That way, you make an incision for an entrance," Mike looks at me and then the mirror. “On the count of three." 

We repeat the numbers before making a quick sprint to the mirror. Palm out, I successfully cut through the surface and am simultaneously transported to the other side of the glass. However, being the clumsy person I am, I stumble and fall on top of Mike.

"Sorry," I whisper, looking into his eyes as he lays beneath me. He shakes his head, telling me it is alright. We gather ourselves onto our feet. I look around to see exactly what was drawn for me. Water-wet walls, glowing tunnel of the mirror, small bed, scarce blue lighting, but most importantly, three small, wavering bodies.

"Mike, who's this?" the boy I understand to be Levi asks. Ada nudges him and whispers something in his ear. 

He immediately perks up, “So, you're the famous, Jane?”

"I'm not that famous," I blush, immediately liking the company of these three.

"You're pretty famous," Ada starts, a Scottish accent taking over her tongue, "Mike here won't shut up about you."

I look at Mike and he runs a hand through his curly hair, cheeks lighting up in a nice array of pink.

"Is that so?" I egg on, a royal smirk playing at my lips.

"Didn't you have questions for them?" he gives me a knowing glance, eyebrows lifting.

During our short-lived conversation, I hear tiny squeaks of voices. And when I turn to them, I see Ada and Levi talking to Elaine.

"What concerns you, miss?" Elaine asks in a peppery voice. Her hands rest folded on her lap and she has a small smile adorning her face. She was a very pretty girl and it saddens me to think that her and the three other children are presumably stuck here.

"Well, I was curious as to why you three were stuck living in a place as dreary as this," I announce and the three nod.

"It wasn't our choice, miss," Elaine continues on. “It was the evil one who did this."

At the mention of the other Papa, the three small spirits begin to twirl around the room, coming closer to me as they address my question.

"We are all here for the same reasons. We wanted a more supportive and attentive father," Levi begins and my eyes widen at this fact. All this erupted from our fathers?

"And the other father did everything in his capability to succeed at just that," Ada continues. “He played games with us, fed us delicious food, tended to our every need, and always kept us happy."

"But, then after a long time, he asked us if we were happy here. He wanted to know whether or not we wanted to stay here forever," Elaine says, a sorrowful look on her features. "We all said yes."

The three suddenly all hover in front of me, black buttons shimmering in their own pale blue light.

"The token to our stay? Our eyes," Levi continues. I gasp, scared to know where this is going.

"We let him sew the buttons into our eyes and with that, he took our souls away," Elaine sighs, regret bombarding her tone.

"We are now stuck here forever, lifeless souls who can never leave. There’s six more stuck here, but the others are too ashamed to show their faces,” Ada finishes. The three quickly float back over to their bed and cover themselves from my view out of shame.

I stand still, mouth agape. This has gone from subtly terrifying to excruciatingly horrifying. How can someone even think of doing such a horrid crime to children so young? Ripping their entire life away from them in order to rot away forever.

"You okay?" Mike perks up, hands resting on my shoulders. I nod, but my composition crumbles. Mike pulls me into his lanky frame and hugs me tightly in order to calm me down from the words I just heard.

What I really can't wrap my head around, is the fact that they all seem to be eleven or younger. I'm twenty and this whole situation absolutely terrifies me. They are a whole decade younger than me, yet they have seen so much more of the vicious horrors that lie in this world. I can't process how they could have survived such horrible occurrences and I admire their great bravery for the endurance of it all.

"There is a way to help them," Mike whispers as he rubs my back. "You have to help me find the canisters in which he keeps their eyes. Finding them will set them free."

"Well, I'm doing that most definitely. I don't want them to be here any longer. They were, and still are, too young to deserve this," I say, staying in Mike’s grasp, craning my neck to look at him. His mouth is pressed into a thin line as he remains quiet.

"Please tell me how this interplays with what you need me for," I beg. He looks at me, eyes filled with care, yet fright. He opens his mouth to speak but, the horrifying creature of the other Papa calls that lunch is ready.

"Tell me, Mike. I'm not leaving until you do."

He sighs, not wanting to get either of us in deeper penalty, but I plead for his words.

"I need you for a numerous reasons, all benefiting the children, me, and you. We need to find their eyes, banish the evil asshole for all of eternity, and escape this madness together," he says in one shot. 

The pieces fall together immediately. Mike had me learn about all of this in order to not only help myself survive, but help everyone that is stuck here until the end of time. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Mike and I will form a well working plan because after everything, I think we can handle this.

"I'll do anything to help them. And anything to help you," I say, my own grip tightening on his frame. He continues to hold me with one arm, but brings a hand to my face in order to move a few strands of curly hair that covered my features. Mike brings me closer to his face so that our foreheads and noses are touching. Our eyes lock, no other place needing to be looked at.

"Are you afraid?" he asks. 

"No," I reply, kissing him to justify my answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mileven LIVES


	9. 009

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: it gets a lil steamy, but not too much

Chapter Nine ~

It wasn't like I didn't want to kiss Mike. It just felt strange afterward. I know that I like him, a fool could practically see that. But, in the relationship that we have created over these last few months, I don't see how this romantic endeavor could have been formed. Sure, he has heavenly good looks and is smarter than any other boy I have ever come across, but we are fighting for the common good, expressing our sorrows through this treacherous place. For now, I'm just going to waver on the boundary line of something more than friendship - no more, no less.

I am currently sitting at home with my head buried in the comforter, catching up on some well-needed rest. The aspect of creating a plan to help everyone is practically eating me alive. How can you find spirit eyes? Do they just randomly pop up out of nowhere or do they come in boxes with the inscription of names on them? Whatever the case may be, I am stressing over how I can accomplish these delusional goals. And, of course, in the back of my mind I am wondering how I can save Mike’s and my own life. My mind wanders to a prior conversation as I plot a formula.

After I had successfully managed to venture to lunch with the other Papa, I was escorted to my door by Mike. I remember looking at him with such curiosity. Why didn't he just leave this place? Was it for the children? Did he not have enough courage? I even blurted out my question when the endless possibilities began to flow in my mind.

"I want to leave here more than anything else. The only problem is I can't." 

With that, he rolled up his sweater's sleeve to reveal a burned inscription, almost as if someone had taken a hot rod and impaled him.

"Execrate vite, or cursed life. It's Latin if you're wondering. He’s got a thing for Latin."

After carefully touching the scar of imprisonment with my nimble fingers, I hugged Mike goodbye and returned to the safer, yet independent realm of my home.  
Things are happening so quickly now. It is practically impossible to keep up with the news and ideas and clues. But, in order to better the lives of eleven, I will suffer through it.

My relaxation is suddenly halted by knocking on my door. 

"Who is it?" I call out, despite the fact I don’t want to be bothered.

"C-Can you please o-open up, Jane? I'm so very frightened," Max’s fragile voice rings. Worried by her tone, I scamper out of bed and run to my front door in order to be greeted by a shaking, hunched over Max. The redhead runs to me immediately, her frail body clinging to me as tears pour onto the cotton of my t-shirt. I manage to shut the door behind her before carefully walking over to my couch and nestling her on a cushion.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask the shaking girl. She hasn’t stopped quavering upon entering and the sight is depressing me. She gazes up at me with her blue eyes, slightly pink and swollen from the excessive crying. She opens her mouth to speak, but I am only met with a quick sputter of a noise. I open my own mouth to comfort her, but she gains her composure and begins.

"L-Lucas ventured off la-last night and w-well...when he w-was gone, I h-had a n-nightmare. He's not b-back now," her voice croaks.

"What happened in the dream?" I ask, extremely anxious.

"It was...awful," she begins when her crying ceases. "There was this spiraling set of stairs, but not the kind where you can see a vast room. It was the kind that make you feel suffocated, where you can only see straight to the floor. Just looking at it gave me headache. And then..." she stops.

"What?" I egg on, at the edge of my seat now.

"My body went cold, frozen almost. My vision whirred and I didn't have a focal point for thirty seconds at least. And when my vision returned, there was someone standing across from me on the other side of the staircase. The only problem was that it was myself. It was myself, Jane. I mean, how cryptic is that? It wasn't talking and it only moved when I moved. I was silent and then it opened it's mouth."

At this point, my mouth is agape. What in God's name could have conjured this up in her mind? I understand a simple nightmare every now and then, but to see yourself? 

"What did yo-it say?"

"Jump. One word. Jump. There was a certain fire in her eyes. You know the type that blazes when you are on a pursuit of mischief? When I didn't jump down the stairwell, she repeated it. Getting faster as she did so. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. In my voice, in my clothes, in my being, it was like a reflection. She just kept repeating that single damned word. I was yelling at her to stop, but she wouldn't cease her infuriating rant. I was scared and desperate so I swung my leg over the guardrail and plummeted. Everything went black and then, my eyes fluttered open to be greeted with the same ghost-like me, eyes wide in delight and a smile as grand as the pacific ocean. She murmured something, what I have no clue, but she suddenly jumped into my body, shifting into one spirit. I felt the imperial cold again and my hands were wet. I raised it up only to be greeted with blood. I was about to scream, but my mind shut out of my sleeping coma," Max rambles. 

I am hooked on her words. Dreams like this just don't occur. They have a purpose, a meaning, and I am determined to figure it out.

-

"Knock it off, Mike," I slap his arm. In the midst of my full scale speech about Max’s dream, he had decided it was necessary to lace his fingers within mine and pull me onto his lap. 

"I don't bite, you know. Merely graze," he laughs, trying, and failing, to stay serious.

"Very funny - not," I mock.

"You aren't scared of me now, right?" he asks, bringing one of his hands up to my face.

"Of course not! I'm just trying to think about how this could work," I admit, eyes never leaving the floor in front of me. Mike’s thumb rubs my cheek and he nuzzles his head in my shoulder.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? I've liked you for quite some while now," Mike muses, trying to get me more on board with this romantic relationship endeavor. I turn my gaze towards him, locking eyes immediately. The brown color burns into my vision, pleading for my trust. 

"I just don't want to be sidetracked from what needs to be done here," I tell him, now resting my head on his chest. His arms go around my waist and he holds one of my hands as well.

"We won't get sidetracked, I promise. Listen, Eleven, we shouldn't deny ourselves the simple pleasantries of life. For example, kissing. It's one of those things that depending on how it's executed, can be quite innocent or quite raunchy. For now, and I literally mean just for now, I'm good with subtle innocence," Mike persuades. I can't deny that my eyes never leave his lips during his grand gesture of a speech. When he notices, however, his lips tug up into a smile and he leans into my face, kissing the corner of my mouth first. He rests his forehead on my own and our noses brush ever so slightly. The ambience is creating quite the intimate scene with the slowly darkening sky and quiet background. 

"Kiss me," he says, leaning in closer.

"What if you don't like it?"

"You did it once and, newsflash, I loved it."

Saying that breaks my walls down. Suddenly, my lips are attached to his, passion breaking from the open areas of our lips. Mike’s grip on my waist tightens, bringing us as close as possible. The kiss feels like utter bliss, leading me to not wanting to stop. I can tell Mike feels the same way because he leans me off his lap and maneuvers us in such a way that he is hovering over my laid down body. His fingertips begin to trace the skin that is not covered by my top, causing a shake of nervousness to make its way through my body. I knew Mike could tell so, only to increase my subtle fright, he slips his fingers underneath my shirt.

"Mike, what are you doing?" I ask, breaking away from his lips. This can't get anymore heated, let alone serious. I mean we just started make-shift dating and I don't want to go the full extent.

"Kissing you," he replies, fingers now removing themselves from underneath my blouse and tracing swirling patterns on my upper arm.

"Really?" I playfully tease. I can feel his eyes trailing my features, a blush forming on my face. I raise a hand and clamp it over his neck to bring his lips back to mine. His knit sweater meshes with my cream t-shirt and the heat from our bodies radiates off into one another as our lips work together like a fitting jigsaw puzzle. Mike changes to position one of his arms underneath my waist, leading my own body to be raised into his own even more. His lips remove themselves from my own and he begins to trail kisses on my neck. One of my hands makes it up to his curly black hair as his cherry lips explore my skin. One of his hands go under the material of my shirt again and rest on my stomach, not daring to go any farther up. His fingertips tap on my skin as his lips re-attach to mine. It is a heated, hungry kiss, yet it has traces of tenderness and calm. I am realizing that all the tension we had built up from when we first met was coming out just now. Obviously, after a few more gaping kisses we disconnect, staring longingly into each other's eyes as oxygen fills up our lungs.

"If I could, I would live with that for the rest of my days," Mike huffs out, slightly out of breath. He moves his hand from underneath my shirt and moves it up to my face, moving away some of the fallen curls. My lips press into a line of a smile and I adoringly look up at the boy smiling down at me.

"See, that wasn't so bad. We save some lives, fall in love, banish th-" he begins, but I cut him off.

"Who said anything about love?" I raise an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in my tone.

"I did. And Eleven, you'll be falling for me harder than you've fallen for anyone else," he replies, pecking my lips immediately after.

"You're going to have to try really hard. I’ve never fallen in love."

"I was in love four years ago. But, I think it will be much different with you"

I smile, shaking my head at the boy who I was supposedly going to fall in love with. Or perhaps, just as he said, I'm already falling, hard.

-

The swirls dance over my head. The papery, silver stars hang just above my shoulders while the golden, metallic streamers hang loosely to the floor. 

I am in a room of mirrors, a large one at that. The shine from the glass has everything in the confinement to resemble a prism when the light hits it.   
I can see myself smiling as I look at the glowing objects. The mirrors wrap around me, leaving about 3 feet of legroom from the edge to the center. I twirl around, in love with the ambience. Then, everything changes.

All the mirrors, but one vanish suddenly, leaving me on a black floor and endless black to surround me. The lights have cut out and somehow, the single mirror radiates a white glow to allow myself to see. I have looked up to see where the decorations had gone when I feel a cold presence behind me. I turn my head to see nothing, but a different sight arrives when I meet the mirror again.

Another copy of myself floats behind me, a devilish smile lining her face. I turn to look at her, but her presence is once again not there. Yet, it is in the glass.

"What do you want?" I ask, clueless to why a floating carbon copy of myself is just in the mirror. Her smile grows wide and she raises her hand, fist closed. Suddenly, she hits the mirror, shattering it right away. A piece splinters my arm and my crimson blood trickles down onto the floor. I look up to be greeted with the other me right in front of myself. Her hand raises, a shard of glass between her fingers. Her eyes and mouth play a sinister dance as she watches my confusion.

"Stab."


	10. 010

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you are enjoying the story. I am going to have to shift the updates schedule a little, because school has been really hectic. Until further notice, I will be posting every Monday and Thursday! Thank you for understanding and enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Ten ~

‘Killing: When you dream of a killing, it symbolizes your feelings. Whether it is repressed anger or just wanting to get rid of some of them, killing shows your current emotions. If you are the one being killed in your dream, it denotes you are trying to get rid of things about yourself that you do not like. On another note, it could mean that you feel hurt and let down by others. Ultimately, they killed your heart.’

‘Suicide: Do you want to kill off aspects of yourself that you don't like?’

‘Seeing Yourself: Looking at yourself in a mirror in a dream usually is symbolizing some sort of self-reflection. And, then, viewing yourself as though you were another person. but it is really you can be showing another way of looking at yourself. You are exploring the different characteristics that you have.’

"So, basically, you killed yourself because you don't like who you are?" Mike says confusedly. I purposely went out after my horrific dream, bought one of those not entirely certified dream dictionaries, and did some research with Mike.

"But, I do which completely contradicts what this is saying. Unless, in my case, I just want to get away from this world," I think aloud, trying to succumb to a solution to this problem.

"What did Max say when you asked her about it?"

"She said she liked everything about herself and everything she had. I mean, we practically had the same dream and none of what should trigger that skit is actually there."

"There has to be something else. I just don't know what."

I sit back on Mike’s chest, trying to think of what could have triggered these random dreams. It isn’t that I am scared of what the content included, more of why I have pictured that along with Max. Perhaps we aren't looking outside of the box.

"Could it have to do with this world?" I ask, craning my neck to look up at him. He brings his lower lip between his teeth. I can see by his facial expression that he's thinking. Suddenly, his eyes grow in size and he moves up to his feet, bringing me with him. He drags us over to the grand piano in the center of the window room. His hands go to the black instrument and he opens the mantelpiece. Naturally, I would think of just seeing the strings connected to the keys, but instead, I am greeted by a huge mound of papers.

“I've been collecting documents about this place ever since my arrival here. What we need to look for is a stack of paper with navy blue lettering and bound by string," Mike instructs as his hands begin to shuffle in the papers. I do the same, attempting not to get a paper cut in the process. I dig deeper in the pile and am about to move on, when I am met with a stack of manila folders. I glance over at Mike to see that he is too preoccupied with his search to glance at my actions. I grab the folders, a total of eleven, and look at the tabs.

Jack Rickett, 1790

Macy Elouise, 1812

Patrick Shwartz, 1852

Jennifer Huott, 1903

Elaine Matthews, 1928

James Nichols, 1945

Ada Brown, 1951 

Levi Manning, 1974

Amelia Grey, 1999

Michael Wheeler, 2013

Jane Brenner, 2017

The folders fall out of my hands from the trembling that occurs when I read my name. Greatly horrified, I pick up my folder again and gulp. I manage to take a breath before opening it, only to be greeted with a stack of papers similar to a shrine.

The left side of the folder shows a picture of myself from a playbill of one of my performances at Carnegie Hall. Looking at the picture, I shake my head. That was only five months ago, a month before I first arrived in this dimension. I bring my attention to the other side and gasp. Stapled together, I find my birth certificate, address, numerous report cards, playbills, and a...surveillance report? Uninterested with the other papers, I look at the report written in typewriter ink.

January 5th: Subject purchases new apartment, 4783 Cedar Avenue, Floor 3, Apartment 3C. 

January 23rd: Subject moves into apartment. Subject ventures for first time.

January 24th: Accessed inside.

February 2nd: Subject befriends alter subject, M. Wheeler.

February 18th: Subject researches M. Wheeler. Possible corruption.

March 11th: Subject's relationship with M. Wheeler paused due to loss of linguistics.

March 27th: Subject attends dinner at W. Byers’ apartment. Subject overhears talk of mirror. Possible corruption.

April 19th: Subject learns of E. Matthews, A. Brown, and L. Manning. W. Byers’ doing. Subject learns of well.

April 20th: Subject and M. Wheeler’s whereabouts unknown.

May 1st: M. Mayfield notifies subject of dream triggered by copy kissing M. Wheeler.

May 10th: Subject spends vast amount of time with M. Wheeler. Pursues romantic endeavor.

May 12th: Subject experiences first dream after kissing M. Wheeler.

May 14th: 

The doll. It has to be the doll who is spying on me, sending the other Papa my whereabouts. But, how when she is only in the real world? My eyes widen as I look at the blank space next to today's date, knowing it will be filled out later.

"Mike, come take a look at this," I call after I have snapped out of my trance. His eyes meet the paper I hold in my hand and after skimming it, I can hear him mumble a few curse words.

"I should've known!" he raises his voice slightly, slamming his fist on the piano. "It's a basic here. Crossing paths with other so called ‘subjects’ leads to the corruption of the current project. Meaning, that by me forcing us to kiss is now going to cause you to have dreams of yourself committing homicide. It’s because we crossed our files. That goes the same with Max because back when her copy was Belle, I obviously kissed her. Although that was years ago, she gets the dreams now because she is another copy experiencing the trauma Belle must have gone through."

Mike’s knowledge of this world never ceases to amaze me. To be thrusted into this dimension with no escape, is one thing. But, to actually study and be knowledgeable of what it holds, takes it to a whole other level.

"So, our relationship is going to ostracize my mental stability. How fun," I snort, trying to play this off as if it weren't a big deal. But of course, Mike feels the need to rebuttal.

"I'm sorry," he says looking into my eyes and then down at the floor. "It's all my fault. I made you kiss me even tho-"

I silence his words by pressing my finger to his lips, the feeling like silk under my skin. He tries to open his mouth again, but I shush him once more.

"This is like training. God only knows the conditions here will only grow worse as the days carry on. With the dreams though, I can sharpen my wit to stay afloat on the terrors."

Mike stares into my eyes, not moving them at all just keeping the gaze. His eyebrows crease together and then relax, astonished almost.

"You know why I like you? Because despite everything you've been sucked into, you never look at the negatives and publicize them. You keep an insightful outlook and do everything to try and swim out of the waters of fear. That takes courage, Jane, something our generation clearly lacks."

Mike’s words startle me at first. When I receive compliments on my mental being, it's usually about my humor or intelligence. But never, in my twenty years on this planet, has anyone ever called me brave. Mike’s thoughts give me a little more of a push even, to find my way out of the troubles that lie in the floorboards of this universe.

"I found what I was looking for," Mike says after a few silent moments. He breaks away from my touch on his lips, not before kissing the tip of my finger. He then grabs a thick, yellowing packet from the center of his pile. The cover sheet contains odd symbols that I've never seen before, but I can make out Mike’s stick like writing underneath it with the word 'Regulations.'

"When I knew I'd be stuck here for awhile, I found this book floating around while he was renovating for you to come. After some thought and finding this weird translations book in the evil asshole’s room, I began to interpret everything that could be and not be tolerated here."

Mike flips the book open to the table of contents and scrolls his finger until he comes to ‘Relations- Page 161.’ He immediately flips through the page sand skims before turning to an entirely different spread. I go to ask him what he was searching for, but he begins to speak.

"In order to overcome the dreams, caused my subject relation, one must become equipped with mental and physical objects in order to lay off the mental demon. Mental objects include, but are not limited to: courage, bravery, banter, debate etc. Physical objects, however, include what the likeness is trying to kill you with. Objects can include, but are not limited to: knives, guns, glass, sleeping in the setting in which the killing takes place, etc. While inside the world, you must have the item in your possession and show the likeness. By doing this, they will stop their repetition. From that point, you must debate your imaginary death with the copy and tell them that none of what you are experiencing is real," Mike says in one shot. I find myself having to read over the information again in order to keep it inside my head. Sleep with the weapon, show the likeness, debate your death.

"Seems simple enough," I say as Mike tosses the packet in the piano.

"To be brutally honest, I think only the debating will be difficult. You are practically talking with a murderous Jane," he says, using myself as an example. I roll my eyes at him and he flashes a quick smile.

"Why is a protection piece in a regulations book?" I ask, the factor suddenly coming to me.

"Who knows," Mike shrugs his shoulders, turning to face me. I go over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, nestling my head into his shoulder during the process.

"Everything is okay. Don't be upset at yourself. I..." my voice softens, slightly embarrassed to continue. "I wanted to kiss you."

Mike’s grip on my waist tightens and we stand in that position, swaying slightly until an infernal ticking begins and then, stops. Mike and I look up at each other and then, I know where it occurred - the surveillance report.

I break apart from Mike and look at the sheet again to be met with my presumption.

May 14th: Subject and M. Wheeler believe they know how to stop the dreams. 

"How can the doll see us? It's impossible," I say to Mike, but the clicking resumes again.

Subject and M. Wheeler should stop talking about me. I know everything.

-

I decide to hold off on telling Max about the dream escape for it may not work. I'm trying it for the first time tonight and I could not be more nervous.

I lay down in bed, a small shard of glass strapped to my wrist. I close my eyes and take deep breaths until my mind has shut down into a lake of sleep.

My eyes open to be greeted with the same room of mirrors from the night before. I inspect the one mirror that remained after the rest had disappeared and I can’t see anything that might be useful in my debate. Carefully, I unstrap the glass shard from my wrist and seconds later, the likeness in the mirror has returned.

"Trying to kill me?" I ask, left hand on my hip while the right holds up the shard. The ghost looks at the shard, then, at me. She suddenly begins to laugh. She raises her arms and does this weird, spiraling hand motion. Before I can even process what is going on, I feel a stinging in my neck and collarbone. I angle my head to see what it is, but am greeted by the shard that was previously in my hands.

"Intelligent girl. Using her own weapon piece to kill herself," the ghost laughs and then disappears. I start screaming at nothing, knowing that Mike and I fell for the other Papa’s trick. 

The atmosphere around me changes and when I open my eyes, I am back in my apartment. No, wait, scratch that...the other apartment. I look around and the other Papa sits perched in the chair at my desk.

"You shouldn't have done that, Jane," he laughs slightly, yet her tone shows anger. I can see he is gripping the arms of the chair tightly, emphasizing his enraged state.

"How did I get here?"

"Oh Jane...you are mine now.”


	11. 011

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me preface this chapter by saying everything will be okay in the end, so please don't hate me too much...

Chapter Eleven ~

*Mike’s Point of View*

I'm not allowed to see her. I'm not allowed to see her, seriously? I have no idea what happened. Why she's here, how she got here, most importantly, why she isn't leaving. It's been an entire week and she hasn't crept back to the place I desire to go the most. Ridiculously so, I am tempted myself to try and return, even though I know it's absolutely impossible.

I've been putting up a facade for the evil asshole. Why can't I go see her? How'd she get here? All of which is a big mask. Sure, I care about her, but not romantically. She is my escape from the evil snares of this place. With her, I can finally leave this world and banish it for as long as the earth rotates on an axis and the moon shines brightly. Obviously, I can't help whether or not she falls for me. I mean, that could help me in the long run. More feelings for me equals a surplus amount of willingness to find a way to escape.

I pace around the piano room, trying to figure out a way that I can possibly go and talk to her. I glance out the vast windows only to see the evil asshole scurrying down the sidewalk.   
Quickly, I make my way over to the window to see him better and am met with him continuing his running, appearing to go to a supermarket. This could be my ticket!

Immediately, I run out of the room and down to Jane’s makeshift apartment. Checking to see if anyone is in the hallway, I open the door and slip inside. Rapidly, I go to Jane’s room and open the door to see her back is turned to me. She is writing at her desk.

"Jane?" I call out to her. I can see her writing cease and her pencil drops. Her head moves slowly towards mine and she stares at me into my eyes.

"If this is another one of your tricks, I'm not in the mood," she says, averting her attention back to the paper. Confused, I walk over to her and place a hand on her shoulder.

"Can you go one day without tricking me into thinking you’re the real Mike?" she says, ignoring me still as she continues to write. Connecting the dots mentally, I confirm that the evil asshole, with his cryptic, yet fascinating power of shapeshifting, has been fooling Jane into thinking he’s me.

"No, Eleven. It’s me, Mike. The real Mike that is," I say to her, but she still doesn't look at me.

"I'm not falling for that act again," she replies.

Knowing the only way to get her to realize it was in fact me, I take my hand off her shoulder and lightly grasp her chin. I turn it towards me and stare into her eyes. Despite my lack of interest, I pull her lips up to my own and softly kiss her. Now, don't get me wrong, normal activities a human goes through within their lifespan, such as kissing, is something I do miss. Jane is a great girl and I'm sure one day she'll meet a guy that she likes even more than me, but for now, I'll be that guy and catch up on my missed pleasantries.

She pulls away from my lips suddenly, shutting her eyes while shaking her head. 

"You're sick," she says to me, obviously, not believing me still. I run a hand through my curly hair and try to think of how to convince her. I get down on my knees and cup her face within my hands, turning her face towards me again.

"I'm not in the mood to be fooled," she says, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I look at her and for once in my time with her, I feel myself soften at her. Meaning, that my facade was pushed aside for a moment and I actually felt remorse for what was happening to her. After all, she got dragged into this mess just as I had. I pull her face towards mine and I kiss away the tear drops that are falling onto her cheeks. Then, I kiss her lips again. She is not as hesitant as she was prior to this moment, but she was still tense.

"It's me, it’s Mike. I promise," I whisper, breaking away from her lips despite the fact that our noses are still touching. She keeps a strong hold on my eyes, trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or not. After a moment, she must have decided I was not lying, for she removes my hands from my face and wraps her arms around me. I hold her tightly, wanting any human contact possible. She cries into my shoulder, saying no words at all.

"It's okay, I'm here now. Don’t worry," I coo, despite the fact I am practically lying through my teeth. I mean, I was leading her on with my act of romantically liking her. She hugs me tighter at my words and I actually like the feeling that becomes instilled within me because of this hug, a desire. It’s a desire that someone has for me, something I hadn't seen or felt in a long amount of time.

"Eleven, it's okay. Try to calm down. You're safe with me now and I'm not letting yum hurt you," I whisper, stroking her bouncy curls ever so slightly. I can feel her sober up slightly at my words. She releases her grasp on me, wiping her excess tears from her face.

"I was so concerned about you. I had no idea where you were and the bitch of the other Papa kept tricking me. He would shapeshift into you and..." Jane rambles on, more tears gushing from her eyelids. I try and wipe them away as she talks, but she grabs my hands and laces her fingers within them, trying to regain a sense of security.

"Well, I'm here now. And we're getting out of here," I reassure her. Her sniffles cease at my statement.

"We are?" she whispers, her vulnerability truly peaking out through the open seams of lost hope.

"Don't worry, we're getting out of here. Both of us," I reassure her.

"What about the ghost children?" she sniffles, her nose crinkling like a bunny.

"Them, too. We just need a plan. And, we need to figure out how we will communicate."  
Jane shifts her weight so, her front is once again facing her desk. Delicately, she picks up a piece of paper that, unlike most on the surface, was crisp and had many marks of writing on it.

"It's not perfected, yet, but it's a start," she says, handing me the paper.

'I Ghost Children  
a. Find eyes  
b. Keep other Papa away from them  
c. Somehow ask Will if he has any idea about the eyes  
d. Figure out how to exactly free the souls of the little ones

II Alter Copies  
a. Is there a way to banish or demote them of any power?  
b. Could they become an asset?

III Other Papa   
a. How can you banish something so powerful?  
b. Can we perhaps regain his trust?  
c. What other tricks is he up to?

IV This World  
a. How can we escape it forever?  
b. How can we banish it forever?  
c. Could anything here help us?

V Our World  
a. Could my new alliances help us?  
b. Can we contact our world?

VI Escaping  
a. Is it even possible?'

"I know it's a lot of questions, all of which, so far, have no answers, but we can work off of this. Mike, we just need to get out of here along with helping the other victims. But, more importantly so, getting rid of, as I truly see him now, the evil asshole," Jane speaks as I read her plan. Her points are all very serious and all very true. The questions pile on top of one another, but they need to be solved. We need our lives back.

"We need to figure out how we are going to talk. We're not always going to see each other," I reiterate, causing Jane to nod and hold my hand a little tighter. 

"There has to be a way," she thinks aloud. I nod at this and I begin to contemplate myself. Glancing around her room, I try and see if there is anything that would help us. Not seeing anything, I think about my own experiences in the past and try to piece together a solution.

"Where are you staying right now?" Jane asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

"The piano room," I say to her, my brow furrowed. She brings her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. I watch her facial expressions change as she reaches a possible solution. And, don't get me wrong, she does look cute when she's thinking.

"Is there a mirror in there?" she asks, not completely sure of herself. I begin to think in my head, mentally venturing into the room. There's the windows, the piano, the little bunch of pillows I've managed to scourge over the years, and the door. 

"I wonder if it would work on a window," I say to her after a minute of contemplation.

"Try it. Just don't kill yourself doing it," she giggles lightly, trying to lighten the mood. I smile at her while rubbing circles on the skin between her thumb and index finger.

"I can't believe our lives have become this," she says, resting back on her chair. I open my mouth to reply, but she sits up in horror.

"What?" I ask, shocked at her minuscule outburst.

"My father, my actual father that is. He must be furious that I haven't called him," Jane’s eyes widen, panic coursing through her irises. 

"Oh, Eleven, don't worry about him right now. When we finally leave, we will explain it to him, together," I reassure her. I can see her body relax at my words, but she still seems a little tense. I break one of my hands away from hers and cup her cheek, bringing her face to my own. I kiss her softly, feeling this is what she needs most currently. She just starts to add pressure to my own lips when a noise diverts us, the front door slamming shut.

"Jane, I'm home!" the evil asshole calls, causing Jane and I to break apart.

"Hide!" she whispers as footsteps begin to approach us. I break away from her, knowing my only chance of disclosure is to venture to the mirror. I give her a meaningful glance before sticking my palm out and cutting through the glass's surface. 

Luckily, I make it inside before the evil asshole goes inside Jane’s room. I can faintly hear her scribbling on paper once again.

"What did you do while I was gone?" I hear the evil asshole huff.

"I sat here in despair," Jane fires back, causing the evil asshole to chuckle lightly. I glance behind me to see that the ghost children fast asleep. It's nice to see that despite the fact they were dragged, and killed, into this much earlier in age than Jane and I. They somehow manage to find slight peace with each other. 

"Despair is what you get for being a disobedient daughter. Honestly, you can't disrespect your Papa," the evil asshole says. I can practically hear the smirk that most likely plays on his lips.

I hear Jane push her chair back from her desk, most likely facing the evil asshole.

"You're not my Papa," Jane firmly states, probably pointing a finger at him.

I can hear the evil asshole let out a long, low, ragged breath, his anger boiling out of every inch of his prosthetic skin. I can even tell he is clenching his fists.  
"Apologize," the evil asshole says through gritted teeth.

"Why should I? It's the truth," Jane fires back.

"I'll give you to the count of three," the evil asshole states. He begins to slowly say the numbers, but horrifyingly, I hear the ripping of clothing and the growth of skin which, makes no sense at all.

"Three," the evil asshole finishes.

I hear Jane scream.


	12. 012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! This is the only chapter I can post this week because of the hectic testing schedule I have coming up. But, I promise there will be plenty more chapters in the upcoming weeks!! Thank you for all your comments!! They make me smile :) ~Veronica

Chapter Twelve ~

The sight in front of me is more than grotesque. I don't even think my mental image can give it justice. The other Papa is quite fascinating despite his lack of respect for natural life. His abilities befuddle me constantly, leading me to be horrified now, fascinated, but horrified.

Somehow, he has morphed into a thin, ghostly figure. He is much taller than his previous stature, almost eight feet high. His ribs poke out of his chest in such a way I think might make his skin rip off. His contours broaden, allowing his skin to be stretched tightly almost as if he had gotten plastic surgery one too many times. His legs and arms got skinnier and his skin became a greyish-white. The tip of his nose is sharp enough to cut paper and his button eyes seem to gleam more in the light.

I scream when he transforms. Partially, because he is a horrific sight and two, just for the hell of it. I wonder if Mike can hear me scream.

"Apologize," he says again, his tone louder now. I stare him down, not moving an inch. He glances at my actions, a smirk coming onto his lips.

"Bad daughters do not get to enjoy my pleasantries," he says, running towards me and yanking my ear in order for me to stand up. I hiss in pain, however, I am not making any other noises. I am not giving her any satisfaction for my pain. He drags me over to the mirror and extends his arm outward. I can see a blue light emerge from the gap he is creating and I can only pray he doesn't notice that Mike is already inside.

"You can come out when you learn to be a loving daughter," he announces, pushing me inside. I stumble back on my feet, but someone, most likely Mike, catches me. I begin to turn around to face him, but the other Papa pops his head inside the glass.

Naturally, I have known him long enough to know that what was about to commence would be the most awful thing I have ever experienced. By the stern line of his lips and his fists clenched in the air, I knew this would be hell. Mike’s grip around my waist tightens, probably wanting to hold me before we plummet to an inevitable doom.

"I should have known," the other Papa sighs in an angered voice, his teeth gritting. He reaches both arms inside the mirror, grabbing a hold of Mike and I's shirt collars. Horridly, he pulls us out of the mirror in a flash, Mike and I in a crumpled mess of flesh and cloth on the floor.

"Schemes will never reward anyone," the other Papa says, an evil shine on his buttons. Mike instantly grabs my hand, attempting to keep me calm from the preceding events. I don't even dare to look at him, knowing it will only throw us both into a deeper exile. Hurriedly, I stand, not wanting to seem vulnerable to the other Papa’s words. 

"You asshole, give it a rest! We will never be yours and we will never stay with you! Give it up!" I shout, trying, and obviously failing, to knock some sense into him. Mike stands up immediately, clamping his hand over my mouth.

"Be quiet," he whispers in my ear, making me presume that he wants to handle the situation.

"I should have kept you locked up," he points a finger at Mike. "You're making her fall in love and you convinced her of my true being."

"Perhaps, I wanted to save her from the sorrows you have thrusted upon me. After all, you kept me here on an account of your own fault," Mike fires, removing his hand from my mouth and to my waist. I can hear the other Papa growl through clenched teeth, Mike immediately upsetting him.

"Oh Mike, I remember when you did love me," he sighs, obviously a mere act. "What happened to the adorable adolescent I took care of? You remember, don't you? We would play Dungeons and Dragons together and invite dear, sweet Belle over. You remember Belle, don't you?" he smirks, Mike reaching his boiling point hence the fact his arm has tightened around me.

"There isn't anything about this god awful place that I don't already know," Mike sneers, his arm discreetly inching us backwards, away from the other Papa. Obviously, I have no idea of what his intentions are, but they seemed important, life changing even.

"And, you felt the need to inform our dear, sweet Jane, didn't you?" he fires, finally turning his gaze to my pale skin. My fright is probably popping through my widened eyes.

"I'm glad he told me," I yell, despite Mike’s warning of communication. 

"Shut up," Mike forcefully whispers in my ear, anger deeply laced within his voice. His tone is unusual to what I had accustomed myself to, a deep and frightening tone. This is a menacing and unloving type of speech, something so stranger.

"How sweet, he’s trying to protect her," the other Papa pouts, laughter erupting from his mouth as soon as the words escape his gnarled lips. My body begins to shake at the thick vibrations of his laughter, Mike’s arm wrapping around me tighter to still me.

"We are all each other has! Of course, I’m trying to protect her!" Mike’s deafening tone returns, letting go of me now and stealthily, but gently pushing me behind him. He is fuming, lips tight in a straight line, teeth most likely gritting. Naturally, he is angered at him and this world and his life and everything he's had to deal with. I can’t blame him for his behaviour. His entire life has been screwed up by some fictitious asshole that could have come straight out of a horror film. He’s corrupted Mike’s thoughts of life and love and freedom all for his selfish needs and beliefs. And for that, I am highly disgusted by him and his ways, more than ever before. 

"Protecting her is a foolish idea and you know it, too," the evil asshole starts, his facial features beginning to very much resemble Mike’s. "What happened to us, Michael? You know you miss us being happy together. We can be a happy family again, just like old times. You, me, Belle, your mother, Nancy, Holly and what was your best friend's name again? Oh, right, Dustin. I can create him just as you wished for before you turned against me. We could be happy again."

Dustin? Mike is or was best friends with Dustin? How did I not know about this?

"Can't you see I can't and will never be happy here. I don't want you or Belle or Dustin or Nancy or Holly or any of your other ragdolls. I want the real thing. None of this made up bullshit."

Rather than replying, the other Papa gives Mike a quizzical look, his gaze shifting between Mike and I. 

"Funny how you never said you wanted Jane," the other Papa raises his eyebrows, smirking slightly at his supposed discovery. He was right, Mike never mentioned me. One would think he would, but he must have been in the moment, not thinking straight. Perhaps, I should just brush it off. I don't need any drama between him and I right now.

"She knows how I feel about her. Why should I express that to you?" he shoots back, his hand reaching back to grab mine. Part of me doesn’t believe it, as if a fake essence is held behind his voice. He had said he liked me, but was that how he truly felt? Did he love me?

"I would like to know what this kinship has created, so perhaps, you should shed some light on your thoughts," he eggs on, almost as if he knows something is going on.

"Frankly, it's none of your damned business," Mike sneers, his hand squeezing mine. "Thoughts like mine that are focused towards her are highly private from you."

"Has little Mike Wheeler fallen in love?" he tests, his buttons shining vibrantly in the light coming from the ceiling. 

In this moment, I want nothing more than to disappear. I don’t want to know his answer. I am not even sure myself if I am in love with him. It would be foolish for us to be in love in such a short period of time. Especially, since most of that time has been spent in a partnership of configuring an escape route. Mike knows I like him and he has made it obvious that he likes me, but love? I don't think I'm ready for it. I don't think I'm ready for Mike to love me.

I can hear him gulp, nervousness most likely overcoming his senses. I can feel his palms getting sweaty, most likely a blush grazing his face.

"Don't tell him," I whisper, almost inaudibly. He doesn’t deserve an answer and I simply do not want to be given one.

"You are in love with her, aren't you? Only more of a reason to take her as my own," he smirks, his stark remarks flowing like a waterfall. Horrifyingly, he is telling Mike of how he is going to sew buttons into my eyes and claim me as one of his loves for eternity. Mike begins shaking just as I had been before. No matter how much I rub the skin of his hand or whisper reassuring things into his neck, he won’t stop. The other Papa began to laugh profusely. Why, I have no idea due to my lack of concentration.

"Grab me that glass tray on your desk," he says under his breath in such a way that the evil asshole can't see his lips move. Discreetly, I move the arm blocked from sight towards my desk, feeling around for the cool, curved structure of the crystal. After a few more remarks and shivers, my fingers brush the glass, slowly grabbing the item. Carefully, I let go of Mike’s hand, replacing it with the glass. 

"When I say so, get the key from the kitchen," he whispers in the same prior tone. Silently agreeing, I watch as he steps closer to the evil asshole, my only source of protection going   
farther away.

"You're going down this time," Mike snarls angrily, his hand violently swinging at the other Papa’s head, a gash of crimson blood beginning to hit the carpet.

"Taped under the sink," Mike shouts to me, tackling him to the ground and hitting his spindly structure with the heavy object.

Running, I do as he says. I open the cabinet and stick my head under to see the only copy of the button key to be in existence. Grasping the metal, I place it in my back pocket. Just as I stand up from my crouched position, my eyes land on the procession of Max and Lucas, both with looks of cliched and fake sadness.

"Why don't you want to stay here?" Max sighs, a subtle weak undertone to her words. Deviously, her head turns to the side, a wide smile adorning her face. Following suit, Lucas tilts his head in the same direction, his smile a tad wider.

"This world is better than yours. Stay with us, Jane. We will talk with you and love you," the two go on in an endless mantra. Their manufactured structures begin creeping closer to me, causing me to go to the corner between the counters.

"I don't want to be here!" I shoot back, glancing at the counter for a defense mechanism. My eyes land on a rack of knives a bit to the right of me. If I manage to grab two, the pair would plummet.

"Jane, what's taking so long?" Mike calls out, the sounds of glass hitting skin still sounding at lightening speed.

Glancing at Max and Lucas, I lunge over to the knife rack, grabbing any two that my shaking hands can grasp.

"Stay with us," their monotonous voices ring before I turn around, my arms raising to stab them in any random spot.

"Leave me alone!" I shout, beginning to repeatedly stab their cloth and cotton bodies. A mysterious creation of the same crimson blood as the other Papa’s starts pouring out of their numerous wounds. Their mantra keeps going on, their voices beginning to sound robotic. Myself, on the other hand, is destroying their made up flesh like a madwoman, my bottled up anger and despair coming out with each plunge of the knives. Their smiles begin to fade, their cryptic blood soaking up to my wrists and coating my face as well.

"Jane, hurry up!" Mike shouts again as the pair's smiles fade, dying for now. Leaving the knives in a mess on the floor, I hurry over to Mike. I glance at his same bloody figure and face. I pull the key out of my pocket, dragging him to the puny door that brought us to this miraculous hell. 

Before the dolls wake up, I unlock the door. Mike follows behind me as I crawl inside. He locks the other dimension’s side of the door and we crawl through the now brown, cobweb-filled tunnel.

"Don't leave me!" the other Papa’s voice begins to ring, the loud bang of the door chasing after us.

"Mike, c'mon," I say desperately, both of us crawling faster. The door is getting closer, the tunnel condensing and the bangs getting louder. The combination pursues us to move faster.

"Go, go, go, go, go," Mike says repeatedly as I catapult into my room, Mike following. He slams the door shut and locks out the cries of the evil asshole. I am sobbing when Mike slowly turns to look over at me, a sudden realization overcoming us.

We have escaped.


	13. 013

Chapter Thirteen ~

We had been out for two weeks before I realized Papa was missing. At first, I thought he was just busy or avoiding me to teach one of his so-called "lessons." Apparently, however, the scheme was much worse than what I have imagined.

A plus that had come from escaping though, was the absolute contentment Mike had simply because we had gotten out.

"No...no we didn't," Mike had said, looking at me sternly in the eyes. I began to laugh in happiness, thinking we had shed the sick nightmare off of our backs.

"Holy shit, we're out. Oh my god, we're out, Jane. We’re out," he had spoken in bewilderment, eyes wide in disbelief and jaw hung open in shock.

We triumphed in our words in the proceeding minutes, repeating the phrase over and over again. Obviously, we had been dreaming of the day in which we would be able to say it and now that it had come, we weren't going to let the opportunity pass.

Almost immediately, Mike requested we went to see his family and friends. Naturally, I agreed hence the fact he hadn't seen them in over four years. As he drove for the first time in awhile, he avidly talked about his mother and his sisters. He was even thinking of what he should say to them upon seeing them. He squeezed my hand as he drove, the excitement too much to handle.

After our hour journey came to an end, he was nervous, keeping me close as we made our way to the front door of the house he had tried so desperately not to forget. His grip around my hand was tighter than ever, glancing at me before ringing the doorbell.

"Nervous?" I ask the obvious, biting my lip.

"For their reaction is all," Mike replies, his eyes widening as the door swung open. 

Assuming it was his older sister, her face scrunched together, almost confused. From pictures I had seen of Mike in the past, I knew it would be odd to see him all grown up.

"Hi, Nance," Mike says quietly, his expression showing he was taking in her appearance. Nancy was a very pretty girl. Tall, mousy brown hair, and a sharp jawline captured my eyes immediately.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" she whispered silently, backing away from the door and running off somewhere. I can hear her faintly call her mother's name.

"Typical, Nancy," Mike rolled his eyes, stepping inside the house with me as he shut the door. Soon, a quick padding of footsteps occurred, only to reveal who I presumed to be Mike’s mother. 

"Mom...it's me," Mike said quietly, seemingly more nervous to see his mother. Apprehensively, she walked towards him, outstretching her arm to cup his cheek. 

Naturally, the proceeding events included many tears and clutches of joy, words of missing, and a plea for an explanation. Mike went on for hours, telling of our misfortunes, after introducing me of course to them both and then, his now 10 year old sister, Holly. Every word was met by a hug and I could tell it was the most loved Mike had felt in awhile.

Afterwards, we went to go see Dustin. Now, Mike had known that I met and talked with Dustin. He didn’t know that he kissed me the last time we saw each other. Nonetheless, Dustin’s gleeful smile and rolling tears while clutching onto Mike dissipated any awkwardness. Dustin was confused to see me, but understood upon Mike reciting our story. He seemed happy for us. I just hoped the happiness would brave on. 

Now, we are both on our way to go to our new apartment to live in...together. Mike, nor I saw a desire in staying in any of our old homes anymore. So, we decided to go and be together. After all, how else would we be able to cope? No one else has gone through what we have and made it out alive. And, we figure since we are "in love," it is only natural that we should live with one another.

As for right now, everything seems fine. It seems as if we can overcome our troubles and the overbearing happiness will continue to no end. It feels as if nothing detesting or depressing can ever affect us anymore for we have practically seen it all. 

Kissing Mike goodbye from our quaint kitchen, I tell him I have to go to my old apartment and scourge all my belongings. Also, I have to check out of the building for good. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" he asks, eyes looking up at me from the book he was reading.

"I'm positive. I need to handle this on my own. Besides, c'est la vie, right?"

In all honesty, I am quite pretentious on going back to that treacherous place. If it wasn’t for it, my mind wouldn't be a swirling mess of fictitious scares and horrifying possibilities. However, I know I am never going to get over my fear if I don’t tackle it straight on. 

Parking my car, I stare up at the large building before me. Should I really do this? Mike and I have only been here for a little over a week. But, then again, it truly is now or never. Mustering up courage, I open my car door and slowly walk to the revolving doors. I breathe in the musky air on the inside. Naturally, the receptionist greets me and I wave sheepishly, not wanting to make my wishes of excavation known. 

Besides our living arrangement, Mike and I have also decided to keep the tales of our horrors a secret. When the press does come after him for being the legendary "Missing Son," he is simply going to say he was kidnapped. Which, in all fairness, technically isn't lying. 

Warily walking to the elevator, I press the button to the seventh floor, my back against the wood of the box. My goal is to avoid everyone on the floor and grab whatever necessities I need, not wanting to take much of my old self with my new one. 

Of course, however, upon exiting the elevator, I am met with a loud shriek of greeting from Max, her immediately coming to hug me.

"Where have you been, Jane? Lucas and I have missed you greatly!" she rambles, her frail body shaking in contentedness. I nod my head at her continuing questions, not exactly paying attention to her words. Yes, I do feel bad for ignoring her, but it is practically unbearable to be here any longer. The tension is only heightened with the awareness of being back in terror only a few feet away from me. It is also quite unbearable to look at Max straight on. After all, I did kill her doll-ish figure.

"Perhaps you should come over for dinner later!" Max coos gleefully, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"There isn't going to be any later," I shake my head. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving? Why? We were having so much fun with you," she sullenly pouts, her eyes crinkling downwards. Sending her a true forlorn look, I hug her, knowing I can only get my point across this way.

"Listen Max, I've just had some...fatal experiences with this place and I need to leave. I'm sorry, but I have to. It's the only way I won't live in a nightmare," I attempt to explain, gently rubbing her back.

"Will you come to visit?" she asks, her childish side coming through with the way minuscule tears begin to drop down her face. I shrug, shaking and nodding my head at the same time.

"Who knows. But, now, I have to go, Max."

I walk away from her, the pale hue of her skin shaking in the dull light of the hall. I know it is wicked thing to do, but it needed to be done. I can’t be here any longer.

Pacing myself slowly, I unlock the door, standing in the hall as it eerily creeks open. Without the light on, the living room just looks dull, only the sun's small rays lighting up a little of the couch through the window. Reaching my hand inside, I flick on the switch, the entire apartment coming to life. Everything is in its place, nothing out of order. I shake slightly, memories of traveling with a speechless Mike and dealing with an evil asshole overtaking my senses. Knock it off, Jane.

I throw my keys on the bowl next to the door, shutting it behind me with finesse. Each step my foot makes through the apartment creeks the floorboards, making me feel trapped. Every sound and every glimmer of light is him. Every shadow and every oddly shaped item is him. It all reminds me of him.

Attempting to cope with my fears, I walk onward, cringing at the spot in the kitchen in which I brutally murdered the two lookalikes of Max and Lucas. Even though my murdering them was used as a source of escaping, it still haunted me. I still hold onto the feeling of their cold, crimson blood coming splattering onto my skin. 

Remembering the things I need to acquire, I take one of the empty boxes next to the counter and begin piling whatever kitchen supplies Mike and I needed. As my search continues, I see the blinking red of my house phone, seven messages on the player currently.

I contemplate for a moment. Do I even dare? Taking a deep breath, I move my shaky finger to the button, lightly pressing play.

‘You have seven new messages!’

‘Message Number One: May 15th’

‘Hey Jane, it's Dustin. I wanted to apologize for what I did. It was stupid and rash and I'm really sorry. I hope it won't affect our friendship much longer.’

I sigh, the flashback of Dustin kissing me coming back again. I still don’t think I should tell Mike what happened. I don’t want him to be mad at the best friend he just reunited with. As for Dustin and I, I hope the awkwardness can break. Maybe I should even tell him about his Aunt Elaine.

‘Message Number Two: May 17th’

‘Jane, whatever this silent treatment is, it better end now. This is absolutely ridiculous and childish. I expect a call from you immediately.’

The shrill voice of the actual Papa comes as both a relief and a shock to me. Naturally, I am relieved to hear the real Papa’s voice and the real Papa’s thoughts. I, however, am not relieved when I begin to think about how angry he must be with me. Disappointing him has always gnawed me from the inside out.

‘Message Number Three: May 20th’

‘Jane, why haven't you called? How dare you disobey your Papa.’

I shudder, a momentary recollection of the other Papa saying those exact words to me coming back. I am almost frightful to hear the next message as I pack up more utensils, worried as to what Papa was going to say.

‘Message Number Four: May 21st’

‘Miss Brenner? It's Elma Mayer from BBC Radio confirming your date to come and perform for us. Please call back by June 1st, four days before your performance, to confirm. If you cannot make it, please call to reschedule. Thank you and we are looking forward to hosting you.’

Shoot, the performance! I completely forgot. Back around January, when I was really starting to become popular in the music industry, I scheduled this possible event with BBC. I told them I would have a new, original song that would be performed for the first time on their station. It is May 30th today so, I still have time to write a piece and confirm the date. Hopefully.

‘Message Number Five: May 23rd’

‘This is absolutely ludicrous, Jane. Get off your high horse and talk to me. I demand that you call me. Now.’

As each of Papa’s voicemails play, I notice that his words become more powerful. He is definitely not pleased.

‘Message Number Six: May 27th’

‘Jane, do you remember when I adopted you? How no one wanted you? No one else thought you were special. Only I did after I saw you jam keys on that toddler piano. I gave you a life, Jane. You are disrespecting me. Call me immediately or you’ll be an orphan once more.’

Appalled. That is the only word I can use to describe my feelings and thoughts right now. Appalled. He has never threatened to give me up for adoption again. I must admit, I am thankful that he did take me in and give me opportunities. But, me buying this apartment was going to be the start of my new life away from him. I never thought he would take things this far.

My pondering, however, is halted when my doorbell rings.

Hurriedly, I head to my door, wanting to pass my visitor by in a few short seconds. When I open the door, my facial features come together, a police man staring back at me forlornly.

"Are you Jane Brenner? Adopted daughter of Martin Brenner?" he asks, hat coming off of his head.

"Yes, officer," I nod my head slowly. "Is there a problem?"

He sends me a serene look, trying to muster up courage to tell me whatever he wants.

"It is with my deepest regret to tell you that your father has been murdered."

People say that when bad news strikes you, it is dull at first. Supposedly, you hear nothing, think of nothing, and stand still. It is all shock at first, whatever the situation may be. As for me, however, all I can hear in the background after the officer tells me the news is the last message.

‘Message Number Seven: May 30th’

‘I told you that you could never escape from me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo i updated sooner than anticipated! sorry for the cliffhanger :)


	14. 014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry this chapter took longer than usual to be posted! I hope it makes up for the time. ~Veronica

Chapter Fourteen~

It hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I don’t know what to make of it and I don’t know what to do with myself. I thought that the tragedies and the horrors and the fears were going to end, not spiral into a whole other world of new chaos. Yes, I have dealt with the loss of a parent before. Mama died giving birth to me, at least that’s what Papa has always told me. But, learning of her death when I was younger did not hurt. I just felt empty. Now, it feels as if my recovered wound has returned with a stinging sensation like lemon juice on a paper cut. I haven’t even gotten used to the fact of being back in the real world and now, Papa is gone. For the second time in my life, I have no family. I am alone.

"I hate seeing you like this," Mike comments one night, taking my mainly full plate back to the kitchen sink. Obviously, I have neglected to eat, sleep, and be productive. Although Papa drove me insane to no end, he did provide for me. He gave me a home, no matter how unstable, after Mama left me. Even with Mike around, life does not feel right.

"Huh?" I ask, not paying attention to his words. Mike sighs, coming back to the table and pulling my chair out slightly.

"Baby, you can't be like this forever," he whispers, kneeling down in front of me. I roll my eyes at his newest pet name, looking away.

"It's only been a week, Mike. Let me grieve," I sigh, my stationary pout remaining motionless.

"This is unhealthy, Jane," he shakes his head, taking my hands into his. "I want to make you feel better. I want to help you."

"Can't I just cry and mope?" I ask, tears brimming my eyes. "I don't think you understand, Mike. Papa, the person who gave me a life, is gone."

Mike mumbles something quietly, and for once, I become interested.

"What is it?" I ask, my eyebrows scrunching together.

"Don't worry about it," Mike sighs, slightly angry and getting up from his knees. He walks to the kitchen again. I decide to follow him.

"No, tell me," I put my hands on my hips.

 

I can see the grimace that sets onto his face. I can’t tell if my stubbornness is annoying him.

"I just don't see why you're so upset. I mean, you have always complained about him and now, you're mourning? I thought you hated him," he says, eyes set in a cold stare.

"You are joking with me right?" I ask, highly offended. It didn't matter that we didn't get along most of the time. He was still the man that raised me. I couldn’t hate him.

"Of course not! Why should you be sad about someone who sent you to your own personal hell?" he crosses his arms, hips resting back against the counter. As the words escape his lips, I become absolutely infuriated. How could he say something like that? Better yet, how can he even conceptualize such a thing when he went through the exact same fate?

Rather than answering, I walk out of the kitchen, going to our bedroom. I start to grab a few clothes.

"Where are you going?" Mike asks, walking in with the same grim expression.

"To my apartment," I shoot him a glare, going into the bathroom to get some items as well.

"Why?" Mike says dumbfounded, as if the stupidity of his words actually evaded him.

"Because you are being a moron right now and all I want to do is cry. How about when you gain some emotion and feel a sliver of humanity, you call me and I come back?"

"I'm just stating the truth here," he raises his arms defensively as I walk back in. I just stare at him, eyes never leaving his. We play a silent stare game for a few moments, every second my anger increasing.

"Hey, Mike?" I break the silence, grabbing my bags and heading for the front door. He follows, making a head motion for me to continue.

"Yeah?"

I open the door, stepping outside.

"Fuck you."

-

So, maybe I am bluffing when I say I want to go back to my apartment. Even though Mike angered me to no end, this still is a place of great personal tragedy. All I know, for right now that is, is that I need to get away from Mike’s disregard for my mourning, even if that means going to an actual pit of despair.

My door creaks open, my dropped box of cooking utensils and now, dead phone still on the floor. Everything is the same as I had left it. Shattered plates and glasses are strewn across counter tops and carpets, crunching at each step my boots take. A light is still sparking near my bedroom where I had thrown a wooden spoon, a tiny pile of embers on my duvet. How the apartment isn’t in ruins after my outburst is beyond me.

In an attempt to push back the sorrows, I begin to clean up, carefully putting broken glass in the trash can and putting out the small flames from the light. Everything is quite hazardous to say the least, thus leading me to clean quickly.

After I am done, I make way for the door to put the garbage into the hall for pickup. Taking a deep breath, I open it and drop the bag on the side of the door frame. I am just about to go back to my flat when I hear my name being called.

Turning around, I am faced with Will, standing about a foot away from me with wide eyes and a pale face. I haven’t seen him since my escapade to the dream world, causing me to relax slightly at the sight of him.

"Sorry 'bout father," he speaks, attempting to convey condolences. I smile softly, thanking him. I wave him goodbye, turning back to my door.

"Father gone. But, mother...she not dead," Will says suddenly, making me stop in my tracks. Did he really just say that?

"Excuse me?" I turn my head, so that my profile is seen, a hard lock of my jaw in place.

"Not dead. Father lie. She with other father," he says, a click in my head going off.

My heart stops. My brain moves in a swirling frenzy. My mother? This can’t be possible. Papa said she was dead. Unless...he did lie. When I first found out about Papa’s death, my voicemail was playing, the other Papa speaking. If it is somehow possible, the other Papa must have my real, supposedly dead father. But, Mama? 

 

"How do you know?" I ask, turning around fully.

 

My breathing is shallow, a sea of curiosity and hope flowing. 

"Inside," Will says, walking quickly as the two of us go inside his apartment. It is the same as before - some parts unusually neat while others expectantly messy. His posters and paintings greet me per each visit and we make our way to the dining room.

Will stiffly motions with his hand for me to sit down, in which I comply. He rushes off to the cabinet where he got the paper and paint from the last time. My thoughts barely wander before he returns, a store bought cake in one hand and an ornate silver box in the other.

Awkwardly, the chest is handed to me while he cuts the cake to the best of his limited ability. I watch him struggle and offer to help, but am met with his monotonous stare and a nod to the chest in my hands.

It is only now that I realize my hands are shaking, a slight fear creeping into my structure. After getting an anything, but reassuring look from Will, I open the crate. Confused, I stare at the folded paper perched on a pedestal of red velvet.

"Care to explain?" I ask, looking up from the box. Before replying, he hands me a piece of the disheveled cake, placing a fork in my hand as well. In an attempt to be polite, I take a bite and eat it, smiling and thanking him .

"Will you please tell me what this has to do with Papa? A-And...with Mama?" I ask, remaining strong and trying not to tear up.

"Looking portal," he mutters, eyebrows raising. My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as my nimble fingers pick up the paper gingerly. I unfold the square five times before I am met with a large circle. A perfect sphere of swirling greens and blues start at the edge with a black center. I stare blankly at the circle, trying to connect the dots of the importance of this artifact, but inevitably fail. 

"View," Will nods encouragingly, staring at me with wide eyes. Still confused, I hold the two sides tightly raise it a few inches away from my eye.

"Closer," he remarks excitedly, clearly wanting me to get on with the endeavor. I glance at him before following the orders.

The roughness of the paper pushes my eyelashes back, causing me to shiver slightly. Suddenly, a swirl of mint and violent flashes onto the surface, spiraling around before coming to a halt on a blurred, grey picture. My forehead scrunches, but the picture slowly becomes clearer.

An empty room is displayed, nothing more than bare walls and a torn couch in my view. I strain my eyes, trying to see if I am missing something, but I am not.

"Coming," Will sounds. For once, I don't look up because a figure quickly comes into view after being pushed. She, I can see long, curly hair, looks at the floor, causing the eeriness of the black and white film to increase. Barely, a door is seen being shut and she presses her hands to her eyes. The motions of her back making it obvious that she was crying.

“M-Mama?” my voice cracks as I grip the paper.

Suddenly, the door swings open again and to my horror, the other Papa, still morphed in his skeleton-like getup stands over the shaking woman. I can see him smirk and I shiver at his appearance, tears escaping my eyes. The evil asshole yells at the woman with a prominent smile, his pointy nails slashing the woman through her thin hospital gown. I cringe and loud sobs leave me. As blood begins to ooze on the ground, the woman looks up.

The woman, to my relief and shock, is my mother. I recognize her face from the one picture Papa had of her. Tears drop onto the table and I dry-heave upon seeing her washed up face. She looks weak, starved almost. Her hair is a mess and her skin lacks any hygienic and or cosmetic attention. She just looks so unconventional and vulnerable compared to how I imagined her. She is so strong. She looks as though she has spent a lifetime here. Mama’s blood continues to slowly stain her gown and the rotting wood, the other Papa laughing freakishly at the sight.

"Leave her alone!" I call out, momentarily forgetting I am sat in a room with Will and not at a bird's eye view of the other dimension. Almost out of thin air, a spool of heavy looking thread appears. The other Papa begins to talk, but unfortunately, I cannot hear him. However, the terribleness of the speech is evident as his smirk increases and Mama begins to shriek. 

Practically pouncing, the evil asshole jumps onto my Mama’s back, unwinding the thread and hooking it to his metallic fingers. Tears flow down Mama’s cheeks as she screams, glancing back at the other Papa during every second. Within a flash, the thread is being harshly driven into Mama’s fresh wounds, more blood oozing out and the thread burning her raw flesh.

Frightened and disgusted, I throw the paper, not wanting to see anymore. Surprisingly, Will launches out of his position to catch it before it lands to the lit candle on the table. He breathes heavily with relief.

"How do you have that?" I stand, shrieking while in a mess of hot tears.

"Magic," he gets up, brushing his vestments. "Keep. Handy."

I nod, taking it from him and rushing through his front door. How do the tragedies only get worse? The evil asshole has the woman I have been dreaming about my entire life. He has Mama, my hero. And he’s tormenting her, ruining her life. This can't go on any longer. I need to find Mama and finally be with her. I need my life back. I just need to figure out how to regain it.

I run out the door and through my haze of tears, I don't even notice the person standing in front of my door. I ram into them on accident, probably covering their shirt in tears.

"Woah, Jane, are you okay?" Dustin’s voice sounds, looking at me and wiping some of the tears off of my face.

"No, no, I'm not," I keep crying, waving off his hand to stop his handiwork since it's practically useless. "No offense, but what are you doing here?"

He stays quiet, almost hesitant to answer. I sober up from my tears and wipe them away, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Listen, I'm not in the mood for stalling. Just tell me!" I say, angry tears now flowing.

"Jane, I think I should tell you this some other ti-"

"No! I'm sick and tired of people waiting to tell me things and having me guess for answers! Just tell me!"

He sighs, putting his head in one of his hands. Slowly, with the other hand, he raises a thick, leather journal with ruffled pages.

"You're not going to like this," he sighs, looking at me and shaking the journal slightly. "It's Mike’s...and he isn't who you think he is."


	15. 015

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to back updates as a little late Christmas present! :) ~Veronica

Chapter Fifteen ~

JANUARY 23, 2017

He brought someone else here. I haven't been this excited in what feels like a lifetime hence the fact it's been years since he hoaxed someone else into coming. In all honesty, I don't even know if I should warn her about this place right away. And, that's the other thing - it's a girl, a rather pretty girl. However, that's besides the point.

As I watched her arrive, I studied her. She was tiny, seemingly shy, and as I already mentioned, quite easy on the eyes. Naturally, she was confused as to where she was and what was going on. I mean, I remember feeling the exact same way. I watched her as she ate dinner with the fake crew constructed by the evil asshole and it took everything within me not to go in there and tell her to leave. I wanted her to put a halt on what could become great devastation. 

As I watched her fall deeper into the despair, I made a mental plan to not tell her anything. I need an intelligent accomplice, one who could help me get out of this God awful place. If she is anywhere near stupidity, I would not waste my time. I need to get out soon before I lose it even more. Thus, I need sharp wits and just a dash of humanity, everything else is unnecessary. I also mentally agreed to myself this would be an alliance strictly for getting myself out. If she got herself stuck here, so be it, but I need out after all these years. 

I also found out her name is Jane, which suits her sort of. Watching her being confused as the cake was brought out to her brought many memories back for me. It all came in a hurried flash and I wanted nothing more than to have them disappear. I wanted to go home.

The best was when I met her. She looked so shocked and scared to see me, which was something rather unsurprising. It helped that her face was nice to look at. This was also the first time I've had human contact in four years and well, I think my hormones are raging again. I feel...more alive almost. 

After our brief yet fascinating conversation, she left, leaving me to deal with the evil asshole. 

"If you know what's best for yourself, I suggest you leave her alone and let her love the life I am giving her. If I find out you two are collaborating, I will take it upon myself to make you fry and look like a fool," he directly stated as he washed dishes. 

"This is my life and I will do what I want with it. Even though you have me stuck here in this goddamned place, I can do whatever I want," I viciously replied.

"Language. You're still my strong boy somewhere in there Mike. Come out and play with your father."  
I rolled my eyes and left to the solace of the piano room, a great perk to the environment. I locked the door and started to pace. I need to get her on board with me. But, how? 

As for now, I sit and wait for her to return, because her return is my ticket to an escape.

FEBRUARY 18, 2017

I told her to look me up. From what I can see, she is complying which brings me closer than ever to an escape. If she continues to learn about the terrors of this place, then, she will surely help me escape.

Surprisingly, she trusted me right off the bat and I even think she's even attracted to me. Which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't completely horrible. As a matter of fact, if she were to fall for me, then, she'd be even more willing to help me escape.

Okay, new plan: Have Jane fall in love with me. Of course, I am not going to fall for her, because that would be utterly pointless, but her falling for me would give me a better and greater chance of getting out. From what I know of her so far, she is quite an intelligent girl. Therefore, love plus intelligence equals an escape route and a little heartbreak on her part.

But, the sacrifice is worth it.

MARCH 10, 2017

I apologize in advance for any blood that ends up on these few pages I write on. Writing most definitely pains my hand, but nothing could ever amount to the pain of having needle and thread forced through your flesh to prohibit speech.

In all honesty, I am trying to figure out if having a "relationship" with Jane is a wise decision. After all, I look like one of his damn puppets now and that is probably the last thing I have ever wanted. 

However, I know that I am only doing this in order to get out. I need out. This place is like a jail cell. You get glimpses of the outside world and freedom and it's so close you can taste it. But, your little light of hope is shut out and you're stuck in the same boring place for the same boring day for all of boring eternity. Jane is my only hope to escape this jail. Yes, this would take blood (it already has, I mean look at my face! It's a crockpot of insides!), sweat, and tears but, it would be worth it all.

As for now, I have to go find bandages. Jane is going to flip when she sees me like this. Point for me.

APRIL 20, 2017

What have I done? She feels remorse for the ghost children now. This can't be happening. First, I have to fake act like I am falling for her and now, this? I can't believe her. I asked for a little humanity, not a bucketful. She is now convinced that she can save them and us and all I want to do is inform her that there is no way that is occurring.

Hopefully, the evil asshole hasn't seen where we were or else I'll really be done for. 

MAY 10, 2017  
I know I am trying to limit myself to romantic actions, but it felt so nice to kiss her. I missed the feeling of lip on lip contact and the running of female fingers through my hair. It is all a mirage that moment, blurring my memory with steam and passion. How much of it was real on my part, I have no clue, but I do know that that girl kisses like an angel. 

After she left today, however, I asked myself the inevitable. Do I actually care for her? I have been in great debate amongst myself for weeks upon end and now, I have come to a conclusion. I care only for her when it comes to the pleasure, joy, and promise she can bring to me. I don't care for her in a sense that I'd take a bullet for her as she most likely would for me. I don't care for her enough that I would go out with her or even marry her. But, for my sake I lie lie lie. 

If she ever does find out about my ways, hopefully, we will be out by then. That way she doesn't need to bother me any longer.

MAY 21, 2017

None of this is my fault. It's all hers. She was the one who got herself stuck here, not me. She had the dreams, she continued to kiss me. This is all her own fault and her own problem.   
I went to go visit her when the evil asshole actually left the premises and she was an utter mess. Grow up, Jane. Be independent without me. At first, she didn't think I was who I said I was which made perfect sense. A year or two ago, the evil asshole had taken up a new hobby - shapeshifting. In his mock attempt to impress me, I guess he had figured out how to   
morph into any creature imaginable.

Right now, I write this as I sit with the ghost children. Jane is in an argument with the evil asshole and I am in here, hiding. I hope she hurries this up so, that we can continue our plotting. 

I forgot to mention her list of things in order to escape. It was actually compiled quite well, except for the fact she doubted the possibility of leaving and included the ghost children. 

I hear yelling. I think Jane’s coming in here now. 

JUNE 10, 2017

She left! I have never felt so joyous other than when we escaped. I ticked her off just perfectly and she left! Now, I don't need any lame excuse and defensive statement. She is gone and out of my life just like the evil asshole. Hopefully, neither of them will come back.

I'm free. 

-

"Open up this damn door right now!" I shout, banging on the wood with great rage and sadness. How could he lie to me this whole time? 

Just as the material was giving me splinters, the structure swung open.

"Jane? What's the matter?" Mike asks softly, rubbing his eyes.

"This is the matter!" I chuck his journal at his chest and he catches it. He looks down at the object and his eyes widen, head shaking rapidly. 

"No, no you don't underst-"

"Why would you lie to me?" I scream, hot tears streaming down my face. "This entire time I trusted you with my life! I believed you and told you private things and now, this? Have you ever actually cared about me or are you just so much of a low life to only care about yourself?"

"I was different then," his refute fires.

"Your last entry was earlier today. It is not different now and it was never different then. You are an asshole and a coward Michael Wheeler. And, I hate you. I hate you more than anything in this entire world. I wish I never helped you," I yell, turning and storming away. He calls my name and follows me to the elevator, but I ignore him.

"Let me explain," he says as I press the button to the lobby.

I look at him as the door starts to slowly close, his waning brown eyes boring into my vision for hopefully the last time.

"Goodbye Mike."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thAT LAST LINE IS A TRIGGER


	16. 016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more update this week because everyone has been super excited!! I love reading your comments, they make me smile and give me motivation to write!!
> 
> The next chapter will most likely be up this weekend, so keep your eye out! I am so happy and thankful that all of you are enjoying this story! ~Veronica

Chapter Sixteen ~

It is hard. Obviously, he has entranced me for months, having me fall for him harder and harder as the days dragged, yet sped along. To think that the boy I am in love with was using me, is a nightmare I never expected to have. Also, the fact that he was the only person I trusted anymore just to have him lie makes me feel insecure. I feel unsafe now, like I can’t trust anyone. I love him. Why can’t he love me?

The days are slow, me trying to avoid the realm while simultaneously trying to ignore him. I think the worst part about this heartbreak is that he isn’t trying to make things better. He isn’t calling or texting me or making any attempt at closure. I am not even sure if I want him to in all honesty. I want to move on, I need to move on. But, for right now, I can't. So, I grieve in the love I lost and kill myself over how I can save my mother. His timing is perfect if I say so myself. 

The worst of it all is that the dreams are coming back. For a short period of time, they had actually vanished, allowing me to sleep and be happy. But, as soon as Mike and I separated and I was given the makeshift kaleidoscope from Will, they returned.

Every night, they become worse. It starts off as they did before, just a mirror and myself. But as the days progress, I find my alter self slamming my head into the bend of a piano or throwing me the through the glass of the large paned windows in the other world. 

Although terrible, the worst dream was my latest. My death came physically and mentally, causing me to be a shivering, crying mess upon waking up. Mike had teamed up with my other ego, acting in his false manner, making other Jane fall in love. Suddenly, he changed. He would scream at her and he hurt her. At the end, he turned to me, eyes greedy, needing a release of anger and a sight of blood. With teeth gritted, he said I was next. And then, systematically, I was killed.

The repercussions of Mike and I's unknowingly untrustworthy relationship are becoming worse and worse by the second. I barely trust anyone besides Will and Max on a rare occasion. Will gives me a view to the mother I have never known and Max keeps me sane and offers girlish whims to help me get through my unrequited love fiasco.

On the other hand, I have been watching Mama a lot. Her treatment gets worse as the days pass and I wish to go save her. I want to be treated with the knives and the stitches rather than Mama Her misery and sorrows should be passed on to me. I don’t know where she has been the last twenty years. I don’t know what Papa did to her. I don’t know why he kept us apart. She has been through enough suffering. She doesn't deserve any of this. All of her pain is due to me acting like a curious child, a mere unintelligent being. I let this happen and I need to pay, not Mama, not anyone else, just me. 

I have been formulating a plan to get back to Mama and also, save the ghost children. Inevitably, I know I will need to go back to the other world, but I need to do it properly. It was hard enough to get out once, but twice? It seems insane of me for wanting to return, but I need to free the small ones from decades of hurt and Mama from a pit of despair.

As my head pounds with thoughts, I wash dishes in the now cold water of my kitchen sink. It is hard being back in my apartment, knowing my misery and my mother were behind a tiny door. I sometimes find myself imaging my life if I hadn't bought this apartment, if I didn't go through the door. Obviously, that reality was never destined for me and now, I have to erase the problems like chalk.

As I wash my few items from lunch, my mind wanders to the topic of Mike. On top of my pain for learning a little of the truth about Mama, my heart is smashed to shreds, a gaping hole left in its place. My mind constantly races with Mike’s vicious words. How could he only use me for pleasure and escape? How was I seen as mere bait to freedom? How is it that he felt completely different from how I felt? All of my forever unanswered questions always course my brain, making me wonder. Is there something about me he didn't like? Am I too outspoken? Am I not pretty enough? Am I not his ideal partner? 

I hate that my mind forces me to think of reasons as to why he doesn’t love me. That is why I have always dreaded and feared unrequited love. You fall completely for a person and you devote your entire life to them. However, they push you away, acting as if you are not a major, but a minuscule participant in their life. You start wondering about yourself, wondering about them. What could be changed? What could I do to get them to love me back? And most of the time, the answer is painstakingly nothing. 

Ouch! My thumb glides against the blade of a knife. I watch as the blood pools the clear water, the few soap suds turning to a rich pink color. I swirl my finger around, trying to get the blood to exit as quick as possible. The soap burns my wound, but I keep my strength. If Mama could go through repetitive backslashes, medicine-less stitches, and years without me, I can make it through a mere graze of my skin.

When the dishes are finished, I dry off my hands and head over to my living room, plopping down on the couch. All my moping and fright has lead me to unpacking all of my many boxes. Finally, after three weeks, I have finished and my apartment is fully furnished. However, the lack of something to do is slowly gnawing me away, boredom always infiltrating my pores. 

I stare blankly at the black television screen, not interested in watching any more soppy movies or mediocre horror films. I often try comparing the likeness of my life to those two genres and the resemblance was far from uncanny, more of a complete opposite. Hollywood could never reenact true fear, true heartbreak. No one can experience a situation through someone else. You have to experience yourself. Yes, it might hurt and yes, it may be dangerous, but you have to live a little. 

Slowly, I feel my eyelids become immensely heavy and I lean my head back on the sofa. My vision turns black as my body slows down, the release of sweet slumber overtaking my frame. My limbs become heavy and still as my mind flashes multiple colors of light. My mind becomes dizzy for a second until it focuses in on the piano room from the other dimension.

"Eleven, I've been expecting you," a morbid, or to me that it is, voice rings from the corner behind me. I stare at the ground that I sit on, knowing that voice quite well. I can feel myself beginning to shake as I stay silent, not wanting to hear the sultriness of his voice.

"Eleven, what's wrong?" the voice sounds concerned now, heavy footsteps making their way towards me. Upon instinct of his hand on my shoulder, I shriek, standing up and running behind the piano as my only defense.

With eyes shut tight, his footsteps stop, my heart beat still at a rapid pace. Of all the possible scenarios, why did I have this one when I so desperately feared it? I refuse to ever see him again and I hope I don't have to encounter this room when I go save Mama and the children. I give the evil asshole credit for concocting this dream in this room with him. What a way to toy with my heartstrings.

"Eleven," the sullen voice picks up again, footsteps sounding every few seconds. "I'm not going to hurt you. I won't hurt you."

"It's too late for that," I croak, shaking my head as vicious tears race down my face. "It's too damn late for that. You ruined everything."

Obviously, I am aware that I am talking to a mere figment, but I can’t help it. My fresh wound of heartbreak is still burning and this truly hits me in my a soft spot.

"Take that back, Eleven," he growls slightly, hands slamming down loudly on the wood of the piano, causing me to shriek and close my eyes tighter. "Take your filthy words back, Eleven, or I will hurt you. Don't give me a reason to hurt you."

"I hate you!" I scream, fists pounding down on the piano's surface. I am tired of keeping my emotions pent up, despite this not being the real Mike. "I loved you and then, you betrayed me! I hate you, I hate you, I ha-"

My words are cut off in a flash as a heavy palm clasps around my neck. I finally open my eyes and grope at Mike’s sweater, my facial features pleading for air. His one-handed grip was tight and oxygen was draining my body at lighting speed. 

"This is what happens when you disobey me. You did this to yourself. You deserved to be used," he spits in my face, continuing to leave bruises on my neck. I feel myself begin to lose consciousness as his hand leaves my neck. Both of his limbs work to pin both my shoulders to the expansive glass behind me.

As an attempt to defend myself, I raise my knee to hit him in the groin, but he thoroughly blocks me. I begin to whimper as his fingers dig into the skin of my shoulders, his lips going to kiss my blueing bruises. I cry out in agony, not wanting this Mike or the real Mike to touch me. 

"You know I love you," his voice says roughly into my ear, moving his head to look me in the eyes. 

"No, you don't," I bite my lip to fight back the tears. "You never did and you never will."

He sighs, his grip laying off for a second. I can't even process a thought as he takes me by the neck again and pushes me through the thick glass window. Upon impact, I am flying, blood streaming down my entire figure. My body cascades down the side of the building, causing glass shards to protrude in me even farther and blood to streak the fixture. My eyes face the pavement and I scream as I plummet to my death.

As I smack onto the pavement, my eyes open and I start crying. My undamaged and awake body begins shaking with fear. These dreams are getting worse the more and more I sleep. I mean, now, I have my ex-whatever-he-was killing me. What's next? Mama killing me?

My sobbing does not stop for many minutes and I am a pitiful mess on my living room couch. All of the pain and all of the sorrow needs to be put to an end. 

I hear my front door open as my crying continues, but I don't even bother to see who it is.

"Jane! Are you okay?" Max’s shrieking voice reaches my ears as she comes to my side.

I shake my head, tears still spilling. My chest hurts and I feel broken and cut up just like in my dream. I feel as bad as the condition I have just witnessed. Max wraps her arms around me and I cry into her chest. For once, she doesn't ask me a childish question, but rather, she rubs my back and tries to soothe me. 

My sobs don't end for another few minutes, but soon enough, I am wiping all my excess tears away.

"Come over, Lucas is at work and I think you need a venting session," Max encourages, sounding a little too energetic for my liking. However, in order to prevent myself from committing any horrendous crime on myself, I nod and unwillingly follow her to her apartment.

Will I ever escape this hell?


	17. 017

Chapter Seventeen ~

"I think you need some alcohol in you," Max smiles endearingly as she comes back into hers and "Lucas’" bedroom where she told me to wait.

"Perhaps," I say solemnly, needing to intoxicate myself in order to get through this night. I haven’t, and don’t intend on, telling Max why I am such a wreck. She knows nothing about Mike and our only similarity is that she experiences the dreams as well. 

My thoughts are put on hold as Max pours two shots of vodka and two glasses of white wine.

"You can start with whatever you like, or you can just stick to one. I myself am a fan of both,” she sets the bottles down.

"I'll just stick to the harder liquor for now," I make a mock smile, taking one of the shot glasses and downing the fiery contraption down in one go. I have never been much of drinker. Papa never kept the substances in the house and I didn’t attend many parties in college. However, I know the only way to blue my thoughts is to get drunk quickly. My throat burns for a few second as Max’s eyes widen at my sudden jolt of desire.

"I've never seen you drink before," she states, pushing the other shot in my direction. Her hand encloses around one of the wine glasses, tipping the substance into her mouth at a slow pace. 

"That's because I never really have nothing I want to forget," I lie a little, downing the other shot and resting my head on the headboard of the bed. I shut my eyes, wanting to let my mind be free for a few hours, allow my mind to forget my tragedies for some time.

"You know, even though we have been neighbors for many months, I don't know much about you," she whispers, almost as if she doesn’t want to disrupt my thought process. I hear the Clink! of glass and then, a liquid being poured. Probably, she is making another round of shots just in case.

"Well, these past few months have been...interesting. To say the least, however, they have been more than problematic."

"Mind divulging? I mean we are the only women on this floor and I am in desperate need of a best friend," her childishness wreaks through her voice. Sure enough, when I open my eyes to take another shot, her own pair are wide with content and hope, a wide smile on her face. I have long forgotten how to conceive a true smile.

"Let's just say I haven't had the best of luck," I speak quietly. My hand reaches for another shot, but my hand shakes. I take a breath and set it back down. 

"Boyfriend problems?" she asks in a curious voice. Although she is cryptic and majorly schizophrenic, she seems to know what is partially hurting me. However, I wonder what made her be the person she is today. What made her be so odd, yet fascinating?

"Correct," I nod, my lips press in a thin line. I am not exactly in the mood to discuss the fallen kinship of Mike and I, but I know I need to vent to someone. Besides, the liquor in my system would most likely distort the story or make me spill sacred secrets.

"I understand. Lucas hasn't been the best lately. All he talks about is marriage and a happily ever after, but I'm trying to convince him that those are just schemes that humans made up. I'm trying to convey to him that none of those things truly exist," she states, finishing her first glass of wine.

"Really? You believe that?" I ask, shocked. For once, I feel myself actually connecting to her and her eerie customs.

"Yes, I do. People create fantasies of marriage and forever in order to escape the myriad of problems that life will forever thrust upon them. I think it's better to just skip all that stuff and just live life like you want to."

"If you feel that way, why have you been with Lucas for so long?" I ask skeptically.

"It has only been two years, Jane. I'm twenty now and I want to live and explore and make mistakes and correct them. This whole being tied down concept is freaking me out. Besides, I have been trying to get rid of Lucas for years now, but he never leaves," she says quietly, her eyes turning away from me. A different mood has now entered the premises and I am confused as to what she is talking about.

"But, every time I see you with Lucas, you look completely overjoyed," I say, confused. I know I have not seen him in this realm, but the puppets seemed pleased. I know her confession will come as a shock, so I finally down the shot I had set down.

"That's just an act. He's forcing me to be with him. I don't want to, but he forces me to love him and be with him. I know it sounds strange of me to say that, but it's the truth. I am terribly unhappy with him, but I can't escape," her lip curls into a frown, shoulders hunching in shame.

"Oh, Max," I say, finally connecting with her on a different level. "I understand what it's like to feel trapped to the point of suffocation. I know what it's like to have no escape route and be stuck, frozen in place. But, I got out. You just have to find a way."

I set down the empty glass and scoot over to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. Now, it's her turn to bring her head to my chest and weep uncontrollably. This is a sudden change in her behavior and I can’t be more shocked. I am well aware that Lucas is a figment of her imagination, but people do say that the mind can suffocate us sometimes.

She continues her crying and I sway her slightly, rubbing circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. 

"Are there other reasons you don't want to be with him?" I say quietly, wanting her to open up a little bit more. 

"Well, there have been numerous occasions where he has put his hands on me and hurt me. I ask him to stop, but he never does," she shudders in my arms, my mouth dropping. This fictitious being has abused her?

"Have you ever told anyone about this besides me?" I ask her, thoroughly concerned. Despite my slightly woozy state, this conversation is sobering me up. 

"I told a lot of people, but none of them believed me. They all called me a liar and said I was making it up in my head," she shakes her head, holding onto me tighter. "You believe me,   
right?"

"Of course," I nod. Somewhere, in her mind, this had to have truly happened to her. 

After a few minutes of me coddling her, she returns to her old self. She starts wiping away her tears and downing the second glass of wine. 

"Tell me about your love life," she pleads, most likely wanting a distraction from herself.

I take a deep breath. What I have been through is no way as horrid as what she just told me, but I need to exploit my feelings to someone. I need to release my true emotions to a human with empathy.

"I loved this guy. And, I thought he loved me. He would tell me sweet things and make me feel special. He would hold me in a way that would warm my heart and kiss me in a way that made me feel loved. But, I found out a little too late, that he wasn't in love with me. He just used me for his own benefit," I say quickly, not wanting to spread the details out.

Max looks at me for a moment, her eyes seeming to piece together the information I just told her.

"Is that why you were crying before?" she asks, her forehead crinkled together in thought.

I nod, gulping deeply. To evade the pain, I grip the sheets I sit on. I know that drinking more will make me feel worse. 

"How do you go on after that?" she says after many minutes, eyes wide and boring into my vision. Her childlikeness seems to flash back for a moment, but then, she seems genuinely curious.

"It's been hard," I nod, trying to stay away from the deeper truth of the situation. "I mean I found out after I was head over heels for him."

"I'm so sorry," she says, putting her hand over mine, caressing my skin with her thumb.

"It's fine," I fake smile, shaking my head. "I just have to deal with the pain for now until someone else comes along."

"Did you have a dream about him?" she asks randomly. 

"Yes, that's why I was crying. It was like the dreams the two of us have. He ended up killing me."

She gasps slightly, pulling me close to her side. I rest my head on her shoulder, flashes of the piano room and the bloody glass coming into my mind's view.

"Do you have any idea as to why we have those dreams?"

"Yes," I mentally answer. If I told her that I knew the reason, I would have to go into the horrific case of the other Papa and the other Max and the other everything. 

"I have no clue," I lie, shaking my head. She sighs, probably wanting some sort of explanation as to what is going on.

"I fear sleep every night. They keep getting worse. The other night, Lucas murdered me, just like your love did. It was horrible and I woke up screaming bloody murder. No pun intended."

"I share the same thoughts," I nod, rubbing her shoulder. Little did she know, and neither did I for a few days, that the dreams are getting progressively worse because I am not with the evil asshole. He is trying to trick me into coming back into his bloody claws, trying to get me to become one of his own.

"Do you think there is any way to stop them?"

"Not that I know of, but I am sure they will go away one day. A turning point just needs to occur."

"I wish there was a knight in shining armor that could come to our rescue," she sighs, her childish need for love coming out in her voice. 

"I wish for that too," I look away from her for a second, trying to resist the urge to cry over Mike once again. 

"Are you drunk enough yet?" she weakly laughs when I look back at her. I nod, smiling.

"I should probably get back to my apartment. I have to clean up a little."

"Okay," she nods understandingly, the both of us getting off of the bed.

"Where has your father been? He hasn't been here in awhile," she asks me, unknowingly of course.

"He is on a business trip. I won’t be seeing much of him anymore," I bite my lip, trying to break the scream away from the surface of my lips. I did not feel like talking about my now dead father with her. It would be too much to handle for a period of an hour.

Max nods and I hug her. I start to make my way to the door when she tells me to wait.

"Here," she says, opening my hand and placing something in my hand. "My mother always said it was good for finding lost things. Maybe you can find your lost love."

I smile weakly, pulling her into a hug before walking out. I glance down at my hand to see a crystal blue monocle in my palm. Curious, I bring the glass to my eye and nothing changes the view in front of me. I shrug, putting it in my back pocket and going into my flat.

For an hour or so, I do as I told Max and pick up the remnants of my mini day-to-day tantrums. When night falls, I am too restless and too afraid to sleep. Instead, I try to make sense about who, or what, Max really is.

I go lie in bed and search her name, nothing substantial or relatable coming up about her. However, when I add ‘mental patient’ to the end, a dozen articles pop up with her picture.

‘Max Mayfield, age eighteen, has been let go from the Hawkins Center for the Mentally Unstable and has been moved to an apartment. In order to gauge her mental progress, she will be living alone.'

'Mayfield was abused, physically and mentally, by her childhood sweetheart, Lucas Sinclair, at a young age. This behavior continued until she was admitted to the facility at age fifteen. Mayfield’s family refused to believe her considering the Sinclairs are a respected family. Nothing was done to prevent the attacks. Her admittance became reality after she went particularly insane and murdered her parents out of rage and revenge.'

'If any behavioral problems from Max Mayfield occur, please notify the staff from Hawkins that checks on her every day.’

I clasp my hand over my mouth. Everything makes sense about Max now - how she loves, yet hates Lucas, why she killed her mother, why she acts so childish. Everything makes sense. 

And, for once in seven months, I realize someone has gone through events just as horrific as I have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a bit of a disclaimer, I know that Lucas is obviously not like this and would never treat Max poorly. His character in my story just needs to have more of an aggressive behavior to explain why Max feels stuck like Jane.
> 
> This is the last update for 2017!! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and supported this story! Every one of you means the world to me! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I will see you in the new year!! ~Veronica


	18. 018

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry 2018 everyone!! I hope the year is awesome for all of you :) ~Veronica

Chapter Eighteen ~

I am making preparations to go back to the other world. For obvious reasons, I am trying to make sure all the loopholes are covered and no problems could arise. If I were to go to the other world, make no progress, and possibly be stuck there forever, I would be living in deep regret. But, then again, taking a risk is better than taking none at all. Mama is still kidnapped and the ghost children are still being held hostage. They deserve to be rescued by no one other than myself. They deserve that much after being stuck in that dreadful realm for endless time.

For some odd reason, I have the urge to tell Mike I am returning, despite the fact that he probably presumes so. I mean if it weren't for him, I would most likely be stuck in the world just as he was or, even worse, with the ghost children, my soul in the hands of the evil asshole. And only for that, I shall give him credit. As for everything else, I hope I never see him and his lying self again. What he did is the mere equivalent of cheating and I can't believe I actually fell for his nonsense.

I check my bag. I have a flashlight, a knife, a pair of garden shears, a box of matches, and the piece of parchment Will gave me, so I can keep a constant eye on Mama’s whereabouts. I have no idea how I will succeed in saving several, precious lives, but I know I need to plunge my wits and decisiveness into the hoax. Hopefully, a positive outcome will surface. 

I dress in my detective type coat, jeans, and converse, wanting to make my mobility exceptional for my presumably long journey. I am not so much dreading returning the other world, but mainly dreading the outcome of the events. 

Naturally, my breathing has become estranged as I pack, wanting to make sure my thoughts pour over every detail of my return. I am nearly ready, my bad slung around my shoulder and my hair tucked away from my face. Nonetheless, I feel like I am missing something, something rather important.

I mindlessly walk around, make-shiftly procrastinating. What can I possibly be needing? My pondering ventures for a few more moments before I conclude that perhaps I am simply missing Mike.

In all fairness, I don't think I will need him in order to be successful. But, then again, maybe my wits are no match for the other Papa’s. 

Get over yourself, Jane. You don't need him to complete you or help you. You are a strong woman who can handle herself without the help of anyone else. Besides, this is your mission, no one else's.

I take a deep breath. This is it. I am truly committing to venturing back. I have said my goodbyes to my floormates, Dustin, too. That particular conversation was awkward, but I made sure to tell him to tell Mike we are forever through. I simply told all of them I am going on a vacation, a vacation to hell that is. 

I slowly saunter into my room, gulping loudly as I stand about two feet away from the door. I have the key in my hand, it’s indents most likely scraping my skin from the ferocity I am holding it in. I can feel my inner core shaking, almost pulling me away from this journey, but I can’t back down now. I have come way too far to just give up.

For one last time, I glance around my room, making sure I didn't forget anything. At the last second, the light catches the monocle Max had given me a few nights ago. I don’t think much of it, just glass and wire. But, for some reason, I feel the need to drop it in my bag. It's good for finding lost things, supposedly.

I crouch down in front of the door, my hand on the brass knob. I insert the key, my fingers motionless on it’s button design. With one tick, the door would be unlocked and my horrors would once again be unleashed. I gulp, taking a deep breath. Be brave, Jane. Be brave.

In a swift motion, I unlock the door, storing the key in a closed compartment of my bag. I creak open the door, the wood sticking slightly. The tunnel has restored itself to its original state since my last peruse. The flashing purples and blues intimidate me slightly, the realness of the situation finally sinking in. I place my palms on the edge of the tunnel, finally embracing the nylon-like material that has the capability of transporting me through several dimensions of terror. I have only covered a yard of the tunnel when the door on the opposite side yanks open, a figure outstretching its hands towards me. 

"Jane! You came back for me!" Mama’s bittersweet voice rings through my ears, tears evident on her face. I have never seen her in person before and my heart leaps out of my chest.

"Mama!" I scream, bolting to the door, my arms attaching to her waist immediately as I hold her tightly while crying. 

"I knew you would come back to me, Jane," she laughs manically, her figure beginning to grow in size and become more skeletal. I jump back when I see the evil asshole has once again played a trick on me. He removes a few excessive pieces from Mama’s wardrobe before squarely facing me. He looks as he did when I escaped, all needles and broken glass for a face. He was several inches taller than usual, but I don’t let that get the best of me.

"Come to the kitchen. Breakfast is almost ready," he nods, wandering off. I look around my other bedroom before following him. The blood has seemingly been completely washed away and nothing appears to be broken. Even the porcelain cup Mike used to bash his head with is laid on the table. 

Nervously, I go into the kitchen, sitting down at the single place setting on the table. His back is turned towards me, so I take the opportunity to survey the table. A few canisters of jam, a pad of butter, glasses filled with various juices and the standard plate and utensils are all set out before me. He comes by and drops off bacon, toast, and eggs, causing me to nod, my face emotionless. While he averts her attention to the sink, I notice the small box in front of my plate. Lifting the top, I gasp silently, my other hand going to cover my mouth.   
Inside, two black buttons, a spool of navy thread, and a glistening needle sits in the perfect arrangement of a smile. I gulp, closing the box.

"I've come to make a bargain with you," I state, pushing away from the table slightly and sitting up straighter. "A game so to speak."

The other Papa drops the pan he is washing in the suds. His hands reach for a dishcloth in order to wipe his hands.

"What type of game?" he asks, clear amusement, yet curiosity laced in his tone. 

"A hide and seek game. A game in which I look for somethings and depending on what I bring back, you get to keep me or I'm allowed to leave," I say, not missing a beat.

He laughs, his hips resting against the countertop. "And what would you be looking for?"

"The eyes of the ghost children...and Mama."

His stitched eyebrows raise, his fingers tapping on his metallic legs. He knows how difficult the situation is. He knows that killing the real Papa would affect me less than killing Mama.   
He knows that is the part of the game I am willing to die for.

"And, what is the outcome of this game?" he asks, almost in an amusing tone. 

"If I successfully bring you back all four people, I get to leave with them. But, if I fail to bring back all four..." I take a breath, trying to muster up courage, "I'll stay here with you, forever. You can sew the buttons into my eyes."

The evil asshole ponders for a moment, nodding after a while.

"You will have exactly one day to find all the ghost children and your mother," he nods, smiling eerily. 

"Am I allowed any hints?" I ask as I mentally remember the time allotment. I need to be completely strategic if I want any chance of being successful.

"Let's just say this," he says, pulling my chair out more and standing in front of me, "in each of three wonders I have created for you, lies a ghost child's eye in plain sight."  
He speaks his words complete with hand motions, almost as if I am a toddler who can’t understand his words. What I keep most note of, however, is how he said "plain sight.” He seems to have a secret smirk on his face, as if he is keeping something from me. 

He steps away from my sight and behind me, a place where I can’t see his hideous and cracked features. 

"Any about Mama?"

I hear laughter, "I don't think so, Eleven."

I shudder at the familiar nickname before taking a deep breath.

"Then, we have a deal," I nod, turning around to shake his hand, but he's somehow vanished. I sigh, standing up. I know I have to begin immediately. I walk out of the flat, the evil asshole’s hint ringing through my ears.

In each of three wonders? I shut the door, looking out at the hallway and the three doors stacked against the walls. There is the alternate Will’s apartment, the alternate Max and Lucas’ apartment, and the piano room. This has to be it. After all, they are three places better here than they are in actuality. 

I take another deep breath, ridding myself of any negative thoughts or images of Mike. My hand grasps the metallic doorknob and I push open the door to Will’s apartment, my first wonder to witness and conquer.


	19. 019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVED reading everyone's predictions on the last chapter ahh!!! ~Veronica

Chapter Nineteen ~

The atmosphere is stranger than ever. Rather than having a clean kept, quiet apartment, the place looks like a complete madhouse. The painting on the wall are torn, it’s shreds lying on the ground beneath it. Strewn across the floor are various books and clothing. Even the book that revealed the evil asshole was a beldam is on the floor. However, the pages have been torn out. Grotesquely, the entire place smells of unkempt laundry and rotten food. I jump slightly when I see a few mice travel along the floorboards, one seemingly coming towards me.

How is it now that everything becomes worse than its actual state? Is he really trying to punish me? Or, most likely, throw me off guard? In a flash, the mouse returns, leaping up and into my bag. I shriek loudly, opening my bag and grabbing the knife as he pops back out, something in his mouth. With a gasp, I throw the knife at the quick moving mouse. I narrowly hit him in the back, causing him to topple over from the weight. I run over quickly and plunge the knife in him even further, ensuring his death. I take the object out of its mouth and realize it is Max’s blue monocle. Of everything in my bag, why steal this? 

I carefully take the knife out of the mouse. Cryptically, it transforms into a pale grey rat, stuffing and sand exiting the seam of the cut. It is another one of the evil asshole’s puppets, trying to take something from me. 

But, why this? I look at the monocle and raise it to my eye, looking through the glass. I gasp when the scenery before me changes. Everything looks the same, but it is draped in heavy black and white. I start wandering through the apartment, everything staying in the same dull coloring.

However, as soon as I enter the living room, a ball of red is visible. I jump slightly, not expecting the color. I take the monocle away from my eye, viewing the chestnut canister in which the first soul is being kept. I begin to walk towards it, but a huge blow of wind knocks me over, throwing me a yard away from the chest.

In front of me, a mangled Will begins to approach. His face is contorted, strings coming apart at his cheeks and large pieces of stuffing coming out of his mouth. I gulp. He is the most horrifying thing I have ever seen. He starts to come towards me, his legs seemingly made of putty as he stumbles across the room.

"So sorry..." he moana, his voice distant, robotic even. Each syllable is dragged out, making the wholeness of the situation even more cryptic. I shoot up quickly, moving away from him. I need the box. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Will has grabbed the box and is protectively holding it to his side. I bring the monocle up to my eye again, seeing it jumble around in the chest.  
His button eyes see the monocle and he lunges towards me for it, but I'm quicker. When a yard away from him, I seal it in the pocket of my bag where the key is. As I continue to back away from him, he keeps dragging himself towards me.

"So sorry..." he repeats again, starting to topple more. I place my hand in my bag, feeling around for my box of matches. If I can successfully throw a lit match into his mouth, he’d burn from the inside out.

As I go to pull them out, a pair of hands grab me from behind, causing me to shriek. Will stays on the floor now, crawling slowly towards me. I turn around quickly, ready to pull my knife on whatever grabbed me. To my extreme horrification, Mike is there, his hands pulling me away from Will.

"Get off of me!" I shriek, breaking away from his grasp as I manage to take out my knife on him. "What the fuck are you doing here?" 

I turn away from him, not even waiting for the answer as I go to Will. For some reason, the evil asshole’s charms are not strong on him. He moves slowly due to the weight of the chest. He does not even seem to be fighting back.

"You know you can't do this without me, Jane," Mike says, coming up behind me. He takes the knife from my hand and starting to roughly jab Will in the head. Stuffing and the same crimson blood from Max and Lucas a few weeks ago starts to splatter all over the walls, floor, and on Mike.

"I can do this without you! I don't solely rely on you!" I scream, finally taking out a match.

Taking my garden shears out of my bag, I manage to rip open Will’s back, causing him to let out a metallic shriek. Impressively, he was still trying to grab onto us.

"Listen, I came back to help you. You should be a little grateful," he says, taking the oddly color stained knife from Will’s head. 

I laugh at him, "No way in hell am I happy or grateful to see you. Besides, you wouldn't come back here just for me. I know you and your greedy ways, you asshole."

He sighs, stomping down on Will’s neck. In response, Will’s grip on the box subsides, causing it to topple to the other side of the room. I hear an odd crunching sound and Mike rips open his cloth neck to reveal his now shattered system of sand and metal bars. Will reaches out to grab my leg, but I manage to stomp on his arms, really decreasing his mobility. As I remove my shoes from his frail limbs, I notice that all the wires have now cut through his thin skin, causing me to cringe.

"So...sorry..." he drags on again, his voice dying out. Mike takes the matches from me and tosses a lit one in Will’s open back. We watch as the flames spread, melting the cables and metal. We watch as this Will dies. I run over and grab the box. Mike is at my side as I open it, the first soul in my palm.

The ball starts blinking red and suddenly, Levi's face flickers in and out of the surface.

"Thank you for saving me, miss. But, there are still two other ghost souls to find! Hurry!" his small voice speaks before the flashing red ends. I put the soul with the key and the monocle, beginning to leave. I stop in my tracks, however, when the entire room and Will starts turning the same odd shade of gray that the rat from before turned into. I sprint out of the room, almost not wanting to see everything in the same cryptic coloring.

As soon as Mike shuts the door, I corner him. His back is pressed against the door as I interrogate him.

"Tell me the real reason you're here or I swear, I'll light you on fire," I say, taking my matches out.

"There's two reasons really," he says, actually looking a little intimidated.

"Well, I want to hear them. You used all your time with me to escape and now, you're back. I need an explanation," I say sternly.

"First off, I was here longer than you, Jane. I've dealt with killing off these makeshift animatronics. I know how it works and how to do it quickly."

I roll my eyes.

"Doesn't mean I couldn't have figured it out myself," I refute.

"Yes, yes I know. But, I just figured you could use some help. I wish I had some," he says plainly.

"What's the other reason?"

He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

"Not only did he take your mother, but he also took Belle," he says, looking away from me. "He wants both of us, Jane. Not just you."

"You came here for your girlfriend that you haven't seen in years?" I yell at him, slapping him across the face.

"She's a human too, Jane! Besides, the evil asshole knew that would make me come back and also, make you upset. Put the pieces together. If I'm here, you're upset. If I'm here and trying to find my girlfriend, you're so angered that it will throw you off the track of finding everyone. That's why I need to be here too, so we can successfully escape here with the ones we love and save the ghost children."

I shake my head at him, tears threatening to push out of my eyes. I don’t want him here, but I really don’t want him looking for his girlfriend. What is eating my heart more is that fact that by the look in his eyes, he must love her. What he said does match up, but nonetheless, I don’t want him to be here.

I take a deep breath, sighing too.

"If you slow me down and cost me my life, I will truly despise you," I say sternly, jogging over to the window that is at the end of the hall. It is already dark out, so I look at the dark skies. My eyes peer at the full moon. About a quarter of it is covered in darkness, signifying I have eighteen hours left. How had time fly by so quickly?

I head back down the hall. Mike is still up against the door, his forehead scrunched together in thought.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask him, my arms crossing.

"Are you in love with me?" he asks me quietly, finally looking me in the eyes. 

"Not anymore," I shoot, raising my eyebrows. "That should be the last thing on your mind. We have fighting to do."

I turn away from him and start for Max and Lucas’ door. As I begin to open the passage to my next few hours of horror, I could have sworn I hear Mike whisper he’s sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back  
> back again  
> michael's back  
> tell a friend


	20. 020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how this chapter is because I have never really written an action scene before and I hope it is as intense as I think it is lol. Also, just for added shameless promo, I posted a new work called "Philophobia." It is a lot different than this story, but it is also Mileven, so check it out if you would like! :) ALSO, THIS STORY ONLY HAS A FEW MORE CHAPTERS TO GO AND I AM CRYING ! Okay, I am done rambling. Enjoy! :) ~Veronica

Chapter Twenty ~

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Max and Lucas’ room. Perhaps my last visit in the realm is what caused this utter madness to pursue. Perhaps, I am what caused this terror.

Sticky blood lines the walls and floor, my boots sinking in a puddle of the crimson mess upon entering the room. There seems to be claw marks running along the walls, destroying the foundation and the rosy wallpaper. The entire premise smells of rotting carcasses, penetrating through every whiff of air.

Mike and I glance at each other, utterly disgusted by the soupy liquid pooling at our feet. However, we know we can’t afford to waste any time. Therefore, we begin to walk down the narrow hall.

"What exactly did you do to them?" Mike asks from behind me, using the walls to maneuver through the goop.

"I defended myself! I just took a few knives and stabbed them enough, so they would stop moving and speaking. I didn't realize it would result in this," I explain hurriedly.

I guess my speech makes my footing less because I begin to slip back. Luckily, Mike catches me just before I fall in the colossal mounds of red. I give him a thanks before I stop talking, hearing a noise.

It is a mixture of sounds, something indescribable. It is like a moan mixed with crashing and screams, or ripping mixed with groans of pain. We steadily make our way to the noise, the blood trails seeming to be thickening the closer we get.

The door, hiding where our "victims" lay, is closed shut. Although the frame seems to be clean, the bottom is completely clogged in thick masses of blood at a consistency of pudding. The smell adds to the entire horrific adventure, causing me to heavily breathe through my mouth.

"What exactly is our tactic in this situation?" I ask Mike, turning to look at his dimly lit face. 

"Well, what room of the house is this? After all you are friends with the girl," he starts as he examines the door.

Quickly, I look around the hall and notice we are at the foot of the bedroom. A flashback of that night comes over my senses and I remember that Max bas been abused by Lucas. Will knowing this be an advantage? 

"This is their bedroom," I tell him, not wanting to tell him my advanced knowledge of the situation yet. "You go in first while I use her wire monocle to look for the ghost eyes."

He looks at me as I take the monocle and my knife out for protection.

"It is going to be a bloodbath in there, Jane. Between what you did and the level of horror the evil asshole implicates, we are in for a real scare. Just be prepared."

I roll my eyes, "Open the damn door, Mike."

Lighter and scissors in hand, Mike opens the door. A waft of foulness reaches my nose as we trudge through the chunky blood. I hear Mike mutter something as I raise the monocle to my eye. At a quick glance, I immediately see a tiny ball of blue light on the bed and no sight of Max and Lucas whatsoever.

I put the monocle back and I am about to tell Mike how relatively easy this will be when the door behind us shuts. The few dusty light bulbs begin to crack from overheating. The room gets warmer and brighter. The smell intensifies. Suddenly, two figures press into the sheets from the bed, draped in thick duvets all while dripping blood.

In a frightened manner, I approach the two, extending my hand in order to peel back the fabric. I take a breath before doing so and I nearly want to faint. 

On top of the gaping crimson blood wounds and stuffing gooping down their bodies, Max seems as though she is in distress. Lucas’ hands are tightly wrapped around hers and there is a hardened shell of blood interwoven between their fingers. 

I take a step back and look at Mike. He, just as me, looks completely dumbfounded and shocked. I guess he has never seen something like this during his illustrious years in this terrifying world. 

"The eyes are in their hands, Mike. There is no way it is just on the bed," I say softly as I watch the maniacal lovers before me. 

"Give me your shears. We have to be quick about this," he says as he sees that the door is in fact, locked.   
“Do you even have a plan?” I ask him, my eyes still glued to their hands. I feel so disgusted to know that the evil asshole brought their treacherous love story to this place. Max is feeling trapped in the real world and his crypticness does not end for morality. I want to vomit.

“First of all, put the monocle away. We can’t afford for you to lose it,” he instructs me. He must turn to see my fixed position because he sighs.

“Jane, we can process this later, okay? Time is running out,” he reminds me. I can see his hand tentatively reaching towards my arm, most likely a gesture of comfort, but I snap out of my trance. 

I swallow the lump in my throat and finally turn away from the wartorn lovers. I zip the monocle away and grab the shears. I hesitantly pass them over to Mike, not wanting him to do all the work. After all, I deserve my own vengeance as well.

Mike motions for me to move closer to the bed, his long limbs slowly trudging through the thick crimson gloop. I follow suit and stand closest to Max. Even this version of her deserves to be free. I want to give her peace.

“Matches. Don’t forget the matches,” Mike mouths to me. As my hand reaches for the box, Mike begins to carefully cut the fingers off of the puppets.

He chops each haphazardly, unaware of where Lucas starts and where Max ends. Their fingers turn the same sandy grey as they topple to mesh with the blood on the ground. My hand glides across the match book, a small flame meeting the fingers on the floor as they fall.

I turn my attention to Mike’s work when I see a finger twitch. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“Mike…” I whisper, my voice several octaves higher.

He shoots me a perplexed look, lip between his teeth. I see another twitch, this time behind his head. My eyes dart to the seemingly still Lucas and right back to Mike.

“Stop,” I say softly again, my eyes pleading. “We need to figure out a new tactic.”

“Jane, stop it,” he groans loudly.

I freeze and am about to pull him away, but Lucas is quicker. His eyes open wide and in an instant, he is toppling on top of Mike. His fingers break away from Max, her body still as ever. Lucas jumps on Mike’s back, loud mechanical shrieks emerging from his bloody mouth. When Mike finally snaps in realization, the two are on the floor, rolling in the condensed blood.  
I resist the urge to screech as I jump over to push Lucas. My hand fumbles with the handle of my knife, my fingers getting sliced. I wince as I grip the handle tightly. I move to stab Lucas when another lunge comes on my arm.

“Get off of my love!” a booming, automated voice sounds from Max. She lands on my wrist, the knife piercing right through her thigh. Another shriek erupts from her as Mike grips Lucas by the collar and pounces on him. 

As Mike stabs Lucas, the blood up to his knees now, I roll over onto Max. I can’t help but feel tears as I shimmy the knife through her leg. Her hand reaches up and tugs at my hair. I yelp and knee her stomach. 

“Leave us alone!” she cries as she backs away from me. I stand in a fighter’s position, ready for her attack.

We play a silent battle, the only sounds are the crunching and sloshing beside us. Although my back is turned to Mike, I am well aware he is winning his fight. I prepare to lunge for Max when her eyes widen. I watch her face scrunch in anger, the color of her face matching her vibrant hair.

I risk turning my head to see the commotion. My eyes don’t even see a glimpse of the flames as the knife is jerked from my hand and I am thrown onto the floor. Max staddles my waist, one hand clamped on my neck tightly and the other holding the knife.

“You killed him!” she shrieks. Her elbow raises back, ready to slice my head. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact and gasping for air. 

The blow never comes and her grip softens. I choke on the dense air, tears escaping my eyes. When I finally open them, I see Mike and Max wrestling. The knife has been thrown across the room as they punch and kick one another. I use the little strength I have left to dash over to the knife. 

The glint of Mike’s lighter hits me as I rush back, causing me to pick that up as well. When I reach the pair, Max is spilling her crimson blood all over Mike, his once white sweater now dark red. His hands find their way to her neck and she starts flailing.

I roughly plunge the knife into her back at the base of her neck. Her thrashing intensifies as I pull the knife through the cloth and cotton stuffing. I cut down to her tailbone, her voice box becoming static and her motion limp. Mike tosses her to the side, resting on the already burning Lucas. I light the bloody cotton in her back, watching as the two begin to melt in the flames.

“Holy fuck,” I hear Mike say breathlessly beside me as we watch. 

“They probably got stronger after I fought them the first time,” I say, shaken up at how many times Mike and I could have died in the past however many hours. 

A sudden ripple of anxiety shoots through me. The ghost eyes.

“Did Max have the ghost eyes? Or Lucas? Where the hell are they?” I cry, my heart pounding. If they are amongst the flames, I could never forgive myself. I could have failed the small children, but also, bought myself a ticket to this world for the rest of my life.

“I-I didn’t see them with it. I don’t think they have it,” Mike looks at me, panicking as well. He starts to walk around the room as I fall down to my knees. Could it really be over?

“Miss? Miss Jane?” a slight whisper comes, breaking through my sobs.

“Here!” Mike yells, slipping on the blood on his way to the bed. I turn and relief floods as I see the little blue orb on the bed. I slide myself across the floor, gingerly picking it up.

I watch as Ada’s face flickers, a smile on her features.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss! You don’t have much more time! Go find Elaine!” she whispers once more before the orb is silent once more. 

I clutch the eye to my chest, the panic I felt disappearing. Mike collects all of our materials as I safely zip Ada’s soul into my pocket with Levi. Mike gives me all of our tools and I pack them away as well. Around us, the room begins to turn into the light shade of grey.

I try to stand in the blood, but the lack of adrenaline from fighting makes me feel pain in my hand. I raise it from the chunky crimson and remember I cut it when reaching for the knife.

My fingertips all have deep gashes, blood falling in droplets over my arm.

“Shit, Jane. I didn’t realize you hurt yourself. C’mon let’s get out of here,” Mike kneels down, outstretching his hand to help me up.

I sniffle a little, the physical pain and trauma from the fight getting to me. I willingly hold onto Mike’s hand and we carefully trudge our way back into the hallway.

We walk over to the window, the brightest place we can find. We sit down on the floor, legs crossed. Mike peels off his gunky sweater and chucks it down the hall. He pulls a pocket knife from his pants and begins to cut makeshift bandages from the arm of his flannel shirt.

I can’t seem to figure out why fighting Max is affecting me so much. I think after learning of her history and pain, knowing she had to live that way even in this hell is so destructive to me. I hate the fact that I have to leave her copy here forever, stuck with her attacker. 

Mike notices how quiet I am as he bandages my hand.

“That was pretty scary, huh? I am glad I came even more now. I wouldn’t want you to go through that by yourself,” he says softly, but I don’t process it. I can’t stop thinking.

He tries to initiate a conversation again.

“I thought it was weird that Max didn’t hold onto the eyes. I guess she loved Lucas so much that she forgot the task at hand,” he considers. But, those words make me lose it.

“She doesn't love him. And that asshole is making them be together when she is in so much pain on the outside,” I burst out in tears, startling Mike slightly. I think my sympathy for the girl comes from her pain. I know what it feels like to be trapped. I know what it feels like to be weighed down by love, even if she is receiving and I was giving. She didn’t deserve it.

“Woah, El. I am sorry. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t know,” Mike frowns. 

He lets go of my wrapped hand and scoots next to me. He carefully wraps an arm around my shoulders and despite my unending rage for him, I allow it. I curl into his side, the tears flowing from pain, anger, and understanding. He rubs my back gently and lets me cry. 

After several minutes, my tears turn to hiccups and I look at him with watery eyes.

“I’m sorry. I-I just got to know her in the real world, and I don’t like how her life is,” I try to explain, wiping my eyes. I pull my crimson-stained hand back, looking at the blood splatter on Mike’s nose and neck.

“Well, that’s why it is so important we avenge her pain here. We have to make sure you get out to help her,” he nods understandingly, placing his hand on mine.

I hiccup again and nod, not even caring about our contact right now. My head tilts up to the moon, seeing that more than half has now been covered. There are only nine more hours to go.

I swallow my tears and stand up on my wobbly legs. Mike raises as well, watching me with tentative eyes.

“We can do this, okay? We just need to find Elaine and then, your mom,” he states.

I don’t respond as I turn on my heels, face to face with the piano room now. As we walk inside, I realize he didn’t mention finding Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse me michael


	21. 021

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty-One ~

The room is silent and dark. It is immaculate, clean, and in the condition Mike and I left it in. There is nothing out of the ordinary. There is nothing wrong.

The door slams behind Mike and I, causing me to jump against him slightly. What makes this room more terrifying than the others is how normal it seems. There is no way the evil asshole just glossed over this room. There is a hidden secret here. We just need to find it.

We take a few slow steps down the hall, heads craning around to see if there is anything out of place. The outside world is pitch black. On normal days in this dimension, several bright lights would line the skyline and actually be a breathtaking image. However, when you are about to enter an entirely new danger zone, an unending black void is terrifying.

My reflection catches my attention in the glass. I look raggeded. My brown coat has streaks of the crimson blood and my white undershirt is splotchy. I have rips in my jeans and some dried blood sticks to my skin. My hair is in tangles, clumps of the goop making the curls stick together like glue. My eyes fit over to my bandaged hand, pools of blood at the tip of each finger. When I reach my face, I see dark rings under my eyes and streaks of blood from my crying. All I need is a tiara and I could be a modern version of Carrie.

I am about to take another step when I freeze. My reflection is still, no outstretched foot to match mine. As my face contorts in confusion, window Jane smiles back at me. In an instant, she is gone.

“Did you just see that?” I shake in shock, my eyes not leaving the now blank window.

“What are you talking about?” Mike questions, turning around. In my trance, he has walked several paces in front of me.

“The window. My reflection it...it moved differently,” I scramble, my breathing increasing.

Mike frowns, opening his mouth to speak, but a familiar voice stops.

“Jane,” the whisper sounds, shattering the stillness of the room. “Jane, why do you want to leave?”

My blood runs cold. I can see Mike inhale sharply. The voice wasn’t the evil asshole’s or Will’s or Max’s or Lucas’ or Mama’s. It wasn’t Dustin’s or Mike’s voice.

The whisper is mine.

“Jane, why do you want to leave?” the, or my, voice rings back. 

I gulp, fear keeping me glued to the floor. Mike turns on his heels silently. I survey the window again, the rich black not giving off any light or reflection. Mike takes several steps forward, reaching the face of the piano. His mouth drops.

“Jane?” his voice breaks, motioning with his hand to come closer.

I move one foot forward and as I set my shoe back on the ground, a Ding! comes from the piano. My face scrunches together as I take another step, a new key being played when my foot and the surface makes contact.

Several daunting notes and steps later, I face the piano.

The other Jane sits at the bench. She wears my detective coat, my white undershirt, my jeans, and my Converse. Her hair is in loose curls, my normal style. Her hands rest on the keys of the piano as she smiles widely back at me. There are only two differences between other Jane and I. First, her clothes and hair are free and blood. She looks as I did when I first returned this morning. Second, where my almond eyes should be, she has black buttons sewn in.

I feel like vomiting. Her cryptic, wide smile reminds me of the one Mike donned when the evil asshole sewed his mouth shut. 

“Jane, why do you want to leave?” she asks me a third time, buttons locked on my eyes. I gulp, but reply out an answer.

“I don’t belong here. This world is cruel and it is fake. I belong with real people in a real dimension. I want to leave the endless pain that is here,” I stare right back at myself. I feel my composure strengthen. The only way I will be able to get through this is if I remain strong and if I remember what I know of this world. 

The other Jane laughs, her head thrown back as if I just told the funniest story.

“Oh, Jane. If you stay here, you can have it all! You’ll spend your days with all your friends. Papa will cook and take care of you. We will make your life so much better than you ever imagined. Papa will be better than the dead man who adopted you. Papa will be better than your Mama ever could be,” she chuckles back, fingers pressing piano keys. She plays a soft, yet lively song. It is almost as if she is trying to enhance the faux happiness of this world.

“That thing is not my father. He is not a person. He is not even human. He is a beldam. He is cruel,” I spit back, disgusted by her words. “And, never say that my Mama would not take care of me. If that evil asshole never took her away, I would be living peacefully with her!”

The other Jane curls her lips into a snarl, as if she is offended by my words. “Oh, Jane. You are so naive.”

I clench my fists, this room being the worst of them all. I will give the evil asshole credit for actually coming up with something so horrid. I hate this other version of myself, my blood boiling.

I am about to reply when other Jane puts her fingers on a chain that is around her neck. She pulls the necklace out from under her shirt. 

“Is this why you came to me?” she holds a yellow orb in her hand. You have got to be kidding me! I carefully reach my hand into my bag, pulling out Max’s monocle. I raise it to my eye and the normal black and white approaches my vision. To my dismay, the yellow orb lights brightly against other Jane’s grey hand.

“Yes, it is. May I have it please?” I ask softly, my hand lowering to put the monocle back.

Her hand clutches around the orb, squeezing it so hard I am fearful she will break it. She shakes her head, the smile dissipating into a grimace.

“You don’t need this, Jane. You do not need to complete your quest. You need to stay here,” she continues shaking her head, her grip never loosening on Elaine’s eyes.

“But, I do. I don’t belong here anymore,” I freeze, so worried she will break the orb. I finally acknowledge Mike for what seems like the first time in minutes. His eyes are skimming the room, trying to see if there are any traps. He catches my gaze and remains emotionless. He doesn’t know what is coming either.

“Jane, if you go back,” the icy voice of other Jane cuts through Mike and I’s silent conversation. “If you go back, you will be neglected. You will not be loved. You will be abused. Stay with us.”

My grip on the monocle becomes almost as tight as other Jane’s grip on the orb. Hearing such vile words from myself made me sick.

“I can’t. I don’t belong in this world,” I repeat again.

The other Jane starts to frown, black buttons boring holes at me.

“I don’t understand,” her voice gets hoarse.

“Of course you don’t! He made you compliant to whatever he wants. You aren’t even real. You’re just a bad version of me,” I clench my teeth.

She throws her head back again in laughter, far enough so I cannot see it. I eye the orb still in her hand and take a few quiet steps forward.

“I am not even that anymore,” a static voice cracks through the silence. Suddenly, her head snaps back upright and it is completely mangled. Her face is lined with black stitches and her mouth has been carved to make a wider smile. I guess the evil asshole equipped her with shapeshifting abilities as well.

My mind does not even process the new appearance on her face when she suddenly leaps across the piano as if she is flying. She knocks me onto the ground, new sharp nails scratching into my skin. I scream and flail against her, feeling the pressure rise quickly.

I scramble up as Mike holds her by the waist and away from me. Her legs swing back to kick his knees and groin. He buckles down to the ground and she crawls to me. 

“You can never leave us, Jane,” her automated voice screeches as I rush down to start attacking her. My hands connect with her stitched face and my nails dig into it. She thrashes as I pull back thread and cloth. The crimson blood begins to splatter everywhere, staining my skin even more. Although my knees nearly pin her arms down, she manages to creep her nails to my back and dig them deep in my skin.

I howl in pain, but I feel Mike pry her arms off and away from me. I keep pulling at her face, but her shrieks stop. I frown, my hands shaking from the lack of a reaction.  
It is almost as if she is out cold now. My head tilts up to Mike.

“She can’t be dead. It’s too soon,” I look at him in disbelief. 

As I turn my head back, she manages to twist from my grip. Her stomach smacks against the floor and her hand is gripping tightly onto something. She screeches the static noise once again and her fists pound the floor. 

Mike is already at work stomping down on her pipeline legs when my eyes catch the cracks running through the window. The once deep black is now cobwebbed in cracks, all being intensified by other Jane’s screeching. 

My hand reaches into my bag to grab my knife. I jump onto her back, hoping to break her rib cage rods when I catch glimpse of what is in her hand.

“The monocle!” I cry, knife thrown across the room. I must have dropped it when I gouged at her face. My hands reach the sacred contraption, clawing at her wrists, but she is too   
quick.

Other Jane manages to chuck the monocle into the cracked glass. Upon impact, the windowpane begins to shatter entirely flooding the room with shards. I hiss as I feel my face and arms getting cut, my blood mixing with the pool created by the other Jane. I watch as the monocle shatters with the glass and becomes lost into the cosmos of the outside world.

“No!” I scream, reaching a point of hopelessness. Mike is over her head, dripping blood and ready to plunge the knife into her skull.

“You can’t leave here!” she shouts again, her body thrusting upwards. 

Abruptly, I feel a pressure attach itself to my heart. I fall to the side, legs draped on the other Jane as the pressure spreads. My vision blurs and I can barely hear Mike slice through the wires and stuffing of other Jane’s head.

In an instant, the world around me is white. I am walking, no destination in sight. In front of me is just the color white with no distinct patterns. I cannot stop moving and I cannot go the other way. I cry as I feel the control on my muscles. 

“Where am I?” I shout, trying to turn my head. However, it feels as if a grip stronger than I have ever felt is forcing me to just look ahead.

“What did you do to me?” I breathe out, my chest clenching in anxiety. I have never been so terrified in my entire life.

I am about to call again when flashes of light appear in the sea of white. I watch as the blues and reds and greens and purples and every other color imaginable begins to swirl into pictures. I see Papa, the real one, moving me into my apartment. I see the dinner I shared with Will. I see the drunken night I spent with Max. I see the first time I kissed Mike. All the memories I have gone over in my head in surplus over the past few months become painted out for me. 

“Jane…” a whisper calls out, voice muffled. 

“Hello?” I call, eyes glued to the images that are playing on a cycle. Papa and the apartment. Will and the dinner. Max and the vodka. Mike and the kiss.

“Please, Jane…” the whisper reaches me again. I can tell the voice belongs to a female, somewhere so distant, yet close. I know this voice.

“Who are you?” I sob as the memories play faster. Papa, Will, Max, Mike. Papa, Will, Max, Mike.

“Come save me, Jane,” the women whispers again. My chest nearly collapses as I realize it is Mama. 

“Mama? Where are you?” my heart thumps. I can feel a fire build in me again. It is almost as if I remember the reason I came here. My eyes are trained to the dream cycle, but my mind is elsewhere. Mama needs me to save her.

“Hurry, Jane. Please hurry,” Mama’s voice sounds, louder than the other times. 

As I shout her name back, I sit up violently. My breathing is heavy and I can tell I am hyperventilating. My muscles shake and tears mix with blood on my face.

“Fuck, Jane! You’re up! I was so worried,” Mike says softly, holding my face to make me look at him. 

“What happened?” I shake, eyes staring into his. I normally would not allow this, but I feel as if I have just died and was only awoken for Mama.

“I-I don’t know. I studied this once, but when the evil asshole makes copies, they can inherit the ability to entrap their victims. That must be what she did. But, you’re awake and alive so, he did not make her strong enough,” he quickly explains.

My chest clenches. My mind swirls with my more recent memories now. The other Jane playing at the piano. The screaming and shattering of the glass windows. The lost and broken monocle. The same sharp fear that came from Max and Lucas’ room rises in me again.

“The orb! Where is Elaine?” I ask in fear.

Mike reaches into my bag, pulling out the yellow orb along with the two others. I feel some relief as I make him put them away. I assume Elaine has already spoken to Mike.  
I notice we are next to the window again and I turn my head up. The shadow on the moon is moving in faster, only a few seconds left.

“We lost, Mike. We lost,” my mouth drops, all the anxiety coursing through my veins again. “We are stuck here. We are never getting out.”

“Don’t say that! We have to go confront the evil asshole now. That buys us some time,” he gulps, helping me stand up.

I feel so hopeless and broken right now. Physical exhaustion aside, I feel as though I have failed. Yes, I may have found the ghost eyes, but Mama? I never even got the chance to look for her. Mama is now stuck here forever. The ghost children are stuck, too considering I did not fulfill my promise. And, me? Now, I have to live in this alternate universe with buttons for eyes for all of eternity.

My dread is silenced as the night sky turns grey. The exterior turns grey and soon does the hallway. To my horror, the grey begins to flake and the same blaring white replaces it.

“We have to run!” I grab Mike’s hand as I watch the dimension fall apart. If we don’t hurry up, we could be sucked up without one last shot at freedom.

We race down the hallway to last apartment. Opening this door will be the end of this journey and the beginning of my misery.

We swing the door open and press it shut when we are inside. The wallpaper begins to peel to grey, but does not flake to white. Mike sees my heavy breathing and turns to face me. He gingerly places his hands on my shoulders. 

“Listen, I know this is terrifying, but we can do this, El. We just need to find your mom and get the hell out of here,” Mike nods, trying to remain strong throughout this.

A sudden bubble of thought pops into my hurting mind.

“And, Belle. You forgot about her,” I sniffle a little, not wanting to think about that aspect alongside all the other factors.

“Uh, about that…” he grimaces, looking around at the fading apartment. “There is no time to explain, but I lied, okay? There is no Belle here. Not for this journey anyways. We just need to find your mom.”

My eyes widen and my mouth drops. There is no time for me to be in shock or respond because, down the hall, a chilling voice sounds.

“You’ve lost, Jane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o look i smell some mileven
> 
> AMD SOME OF YOUR PREDICTIONS WERE RIGHT !!!!


	22. 022

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this chapter is like a week and a half late! I have been battling the flu and it has been hell.
> 
> Also, this chapter was written solely because I saw a picture of Millie at the SAG Awards tonight with Dakota Fanning who voiced Coraline in the movie. It made me really happy :)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy this rollercoaster! ~Veronica

Chapter Twenty-Two ~

The evil asshole’s words turn my blood to ice. Any apprehension or fear I have had throughout this journey courses through my body one last time before it is replaced with adrenaline. This is the final destination after all the hell I have been through. I need to put in full effort against him, even if it does end with me losing my life. Mama and the ghost children deserve my perseverance and risk. 

Mike and I take quiet steps across the threshold towards the evil asshole. The lights above us flicker before burning out, cascading the room in darkness. The only light is coming from the living room which is where I assume our battle will commence. My eyes are glued to the purple ambience and I take a deep breath.

“Jane, you’re ba-” the evil asshole begins as I walk into the room first. However, he stops as Mike follows in behind me. I glance over his features as he is paused. He has grown lankier and his face is now shredded cloth. His buttons have cracks on the rim and his suit has sharp edges from the metal disks protruding from his body. There is a glint of light on my cheek and I see that his hands have now morphed into needles, each finger long and spindly.

“I see you brought vermin with you,” his voice booms, head tilted towards Mike.

He stands up, breaking my concentration on his appearance. He floats across the floor, almost as if he cannot walk, but only glide. He first hovers over me, buttons reflecting the purple light overhead. He then, shifts over to Mike, staring him down.

“How did you get here?” the evil asshole says hoarsely, one needle hand going to caress Mike’s face. I see him flinch as one finger scratches his cheek.

“Does it matter at this point? I have been here under your nose this entire time. I guess you really aren’t as powerful as you think you are,” Mike straightens, puffing his chest out. 

“Take that back, Michael,” the evil asshole leans his face in, long pointy nose mere centimeters away from Mike’s.

“Why should I? You know it is becoming true. All this plotting and fighting and bullshit is making you weak. You know I am right,” Mike looks up at him with pure hatred in his eyes. He most likely assumed that when he fought the evil asshole weeks ago, that he would never come face to face with him again. It must take a lot of courage to stand up to him again after all the pain and suffering he has caused.

“And, you know I love you, Michael,” he sneers, pulling his face away to look at me. The evil asshole leans his hand over and caresses my cheek, scratching me as well. “And, my Jane. I love you, too.”

I gulp, ignoring the burn of the fresh wound. “You have a very funny way of showing it.”

The evil asshole blanches and looks between the pair of us. I wonder if he ever imagined that his creations would one day become defiant. He most likely assumed that life, or falsified life that is, would be simple. He would nurture the lives of seemingly unloved children and then, feast away on their souls. I don’t think the evil asshole ever dreamed of having a child turn against him and refuse to give him their eyes. Even if that future was thought about, it most likely never occurred to him that two of his mock children would band together in order to escape the hell he created.

My zoning is broken when the evil asshole stands straight and clasps his hands in front of him.

“So, where are they? The ghost eyes?” he sneers.

Mike looks at me, almost as if to say be careful. I nod and pull them out of the secret compartment in my messenger bag. I cradle the three eyes in my palm before extending my arm. The evil asshole smirks and leans in, peering at the three orbs. His hand cuts through the space between us and almost manages to grab them from my palm.

“Not so fast! We aren’t done yet,” I pull my hand back and Mike carefully nudges me away from the evil asshole. 

“Oh, right,” he laughs, head thrown back. I gulp as he looks as the other Jane did when she laughed. “You still need to find your old Mama.”

“Old? Jane has never even met her mother because of you!” Mike snaps, face incredulous with anger. 

“Michael, why do you enjoy opposing me so much?” the evil asshole huffs, floating back in order to face Mike ever so closely.

“Because you make everyone here miserable! You rip people away from their real lives!” he retaliates and puffs his chest.

I am about to step into their argument when I hear a whisper next to me. I frown and turn my head, my eyes catching on the light pouring from my hand. The yellow orb is blinking rapidly, Elaine wanting to talk. I guess she didn’t talk to Mike. What is so important that she waited for me? Seeing that Mike and the evil asshole are still in a heated battle, I turn my back to them and listen to Elaine.

“Be clever, Miss Jane! Even if you win, he will never let you go!” Elaine’s small face flickers with the yellow light before her message ends. I gulp and secure the eyes back into my bag.

Elaine is right and I don’t even know how Mike and I didn’t think about that. The evil asshole is clinging to us. He knows that if we make it out, he will never be able to get a chance to venture out on other children. He needs us to survive. We just have to trick him.

I turn my attention back to Mike when I hear him say, “You didn’t even give her a clue about finding her mom!”

“It’s okay, Mike. I didn’t need a clue. I already found her,” I lie smoothly, crossing my arms. Both of them turn to look at me. Mike is shaking his head in confusion and mouthing to me a “what the hell?”

The evil asshole on the other hand appears to be amused. He moves away from Mike and faces me. “Oh, really, Jane? Well, show me. Where is she?”  
I know that the evil asshole has the key to the door. He stole it sometime while I was here, the only key in existence. The only way we can leave is if the door is open and we have the key.

“She’s in my bedroom, behind the door,” I raise a shaky finger to point at the other room. The evil asshole snickers and begins to lead Mike and I into my fake bedroom. 

I hit Mike’s arm and mouth to look around for Mama. She has to be here somewhere considering the entire apartment is already turning to grey. 

As we enter my bedroom, the rest of the apartment is peeling to grey and becoming submerged in total darkness. My room is just starting to fade, but the purple light is vibrant and fills the space. The evil asshole crouches down to slowly to unlock the door. 

“Jane!” I hear a whisper to my left, louder than the other times, but still recognizable as Mama’s voice. I glance at a trinket that I have resting on my dresser. It was one of the only things that was left at my Mama’s house. It was given to me when I was brought into the orphanage as a baby. The trinket is a silver eighth note, the belly made of a diamond. It is the only thing I have ever had of Mama. 

“Jane!” I hear the voice again, purple light bouncing off of the diamond. Without hesitation, I stuff the trinket into my bag with the ghost eyes.

I quickly avert my attention to the evil asshole when I hear him coughing. I cringe as he hacks the black key up, a goop of saliva falling off of the buttoned end. He wipes the button on his jacket, peering his face over to look at me with a smirk again.

“Go on, open it. She’s in there,” I respond with faux confidence.

Mike moves to my side and I can feel the handle of the knife resting against my leg. He carefully passes it over to me as our eyes stay trained to the door.

“You’re wrong, Jane,” the evil asshole cackles, opening the door. As it was when we first escaped, the mesh to the real world is brown and caked with dust. It is dark and cobwebs line the seams. 

“Now,” he turns around, head leaning back to laugh once more, “you and Michael are stuck here forever.”

“No,” I shake my head, taking a few steps closer. 

The evil asshole peers down at me. “Excuse me, Jane?”

“No, we’re not!” I yell back in anger, hands clamped around the handle of the knife. I quickly raise it above my head and plunge it deep into his skull. 

Mike takes the opportunity to reach his hands around my head and rip the buttons and black thread from the evil asshole’s face. The knife is stuck at the wiring in his nose and Mike manages to tear some strips of cloth with the buttons. As I pull the knife out and Mike throws the buttons out of the room, crimson blood splatters our face and the evil asshole thrashes.

The same feeling of pressure from the piano room overcomes Mike and I in a gust of force, sending us back in the room. We land with a thud on the back wall as the evil asshole covers his eyes in pain. He slips in his own mess of blood on the floor. 

“You horrible cheating children!” he moans, moving his head around and trying to sense our location. 

I slide across the floor to grab the knife from under the bed. Mike is already on his way back to start ripping the rest of the evil asshole’s cloth away when the room begins to shake. The room spins and I shriek, grabbing the knife as quickly as possible. Mike lunges forward at the evil asshole and tackles him to the ground. I can see Mike plunging his fingers deep in his skin, yelping as the wires pierce and shock him. 

I jump over the bed and land near the evil asshole’s waist. I trip due to the shaking of the room, the knife piercing the evil asshole’s stomach. He kicks my sore legs and I gasp. I don’t get to make any progress as the room suddenly drops. 

Blood splatters all over the walls, the wounds from Mike’s tearing and my stab getting all over us and the broken wood and wallpaper. It is almost as if we are trapped inside a large cobweb. The center of the floor has fallen down and condensed to be one maze of architecture. I quickly look around and see the same white light as before in the endless void pool in from the cracks of the floorboards.

Mike and I manage to land on the opposite side of the wooden tunnel and we shakily stand up. The evil asshole is a lump of crimson and cloth and wiring on the floor, seemingly unmoving. However, as the two of us shakily stand up and assess how we are going to get back up, a large scream erupts.

“You selfish brats!” his voice booms, becoming mechanical and full of static. Mike and I quickly grab the knife again before climbing up the floorboards. Although the wood is splintered and tearing our already wounded skin, we trek up as fast as possible.

“I gave you everything!” a voice shouts from beneath us. I look down to see the evil asshole pounding on the walls. The vibrations shake up to our boards and threaten to make us fall. My grip on the ledge falters, but luckily, Mike manages to grab my hand. 

Mike makes it up to the door first and pulls himself inside. The pounding intensifies and Mike gasps.

“Eleven, hurry up!” he yells, hands outstretched to help me up. I can feel more vibrations knocking at my feet and even the blow of air. I scream as I can feel mechanical fingertips scratch at my ankles as I make my way into the door. 

I grab the key from the outside of the door and land in between Mike’s legs. We pull the door shut, but the pounding of the evil asshole continues from the other world.

“You can’t leave me!” he yelps in static, pounding on the door and attempting to pry it open. Mike and I both scream as we see his mechanical hand peer from the opened edge of the door.

“Pull it shut!” I cry, using all my strength left to help Mike. 

Suddenly, I feel cold air around my wrists and through my unnoticed tears, I see the hands of the ghost children helping us. With the extra force, we are able to finally shut it. I lock it and pounding ceases for only a moment.

“What the fuck is that?” Mike pulls me away from the door, noticing how one of the evil asshole’s mechanical hands has been clipped off by us shutting the door. We jolt again in the cobwebs of the tunnel as the pounding intensifies and the groaning continues.

I don’t even answer Mike’s question as we rush out the tunnel for our lives once again. Everything feels the same as it did the first time, happening so quickly we can’t even process it. 

“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!” the mantra is repeated as the pounding of the door follows us every inch deeper in the tunnel.

We launch ourselves on the floor of my real bedroom and I lock the door once more. A final booming pound sends the pressure and force against Mike and I again. We fall against the back wall just as we did in the other dimension.

I can hear the collective sobs of Mike and I, the feeling of escape washing over us again. Only this time, we know this escape is for real and obsolete. The evil asshole can never hurt us again. 

Mike wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me into his chest. Because of all the emotional trauma we have been through, I let him hold me and we cry. We cry for our pain. We cry for the baggage that returning brought us. We cry because we saved ourselves and so many others. We cry because we survived.

I am shaking as I finally reach into my bag, staying leaned up against Mike’s chest. I open the zipper to the compartment that has been holding the treasures we fought for. I let out a sigh of relief when I hold the three orbs in my hand, but frown when I don’t feel the eighth note trinket.

I open my mouth, not even knowing what I am about to say when I hear the faint whisper again.

“Jane?” I hear the female voice that kept me going in the dark place break the silence. I hear the whisper repeat itself in a croak from the living room.

I pull myself out of Mike’s arms and rush to the other room.

I let out a cry of relief when I finally see the woman I know to be my mother. She is laid on the coach, cuts and bruises lining her arms, blood seeping into her striped shirt and brown pants. She has tears streaming down her face and she gasps upon my entrance.

She shakily stands up as I rush over. And, for the first time in my entire life, I am held by the woman I have always wanted. Mama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who else is living for the mileven content AND for mama being saved???


	23. 023

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...this took awhile...notes at the end.

Chapter Twenty-Three ~

The next thirty minutes are a blur. I don’t know how long I cry for. I don’t know how long I hug Mama for. I don’t know when Mike gives us both tissues and guides us to sit down. I don’t know when she finally holds my face in her bony hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. I do remember the next words she says to me though.

“My precious sunshine. Oh, how long I have waited to be with you,” she sniffles, eyes mirroring mine and painted with happiness and longing.

I close my eyes, placing my sweaty palms over her skin. 

“I-I had no idea you were alive. P-Papa always told me you were gone,” I shudder, every memory of his words flooding through me. 

I hear Mama let out a shaky breath, moving her hands from my face. She reaches her arm around me and pulls me to her side. It’s almost as if she can’t bare to look at me as she is going to tell me the truth I’ve desperately always wanted.

“Michael, you will want to know this, too. After all, you were stuck there for so long,” she turns her neck to look at Mike. He had been trying to give us privacy, staying at the doorway of the kitchen and out of our conversation. However, at this granted permission, he carefully sits on the other side of me. 

Mama squeezes my arm gently, looking solemnly between Mike and I.

“That place...that dimension...it’s my fault it exists,” she lets out, a huff of a held in breath coming out afterwards. I feel Mike go rigid behind me as my expression yields heavy confusion.

“When I first started college, I was nothing more than a naive, Indiana-raised girl who desired to be a journalist. Unfortunately, it didn’t take me long before I got involved with the wrong people. Martin was the worst person I could’ve befriended, let alone fall in love with.”

Martin. The name registers in my head. Papa.

“He was senior, completing a hybrid degree in biology and technology. He was older and sophisticated and seemed like he knew what he was doing. He was assigned to tutor me and one thing lead to another and we started a relationship,” Mama grimaces. Reliving the story as she tells it seems to knock the wind out of her. Mama is shaking and nervous as I carefully rub her back.

“Often times, he had me help him and his friends with his projects. None of them were successful until he began experimenting with something dangerous. He started using hallucinogenic drugs, like LSD. He wanted to find a bridge between our minds and the world we lived in. He wanted to break our dimension into something different. He...he roped me into helping him with it,” Mama rests her chin on the top of my head, her breathing labored.

“As our relationship progressed, I became a more active participant alongside some of my other classmates. I didn’t even realize I was pregnant with you until my stomach bulged over my jeans and I had morning sickness everyday. Martin made me stop the experimentation, but I was exposed to it regardless. As he became more indulged in his work, he pulled away from me. You were going to be all I had, Jane,” she pulls me in tighter.

“About a month before I was due, Martin started getting closer to me again. He said that he had made a breakthrough. He was successful. He didn’t understand the science behind it yet, but he had found a gateway. He found a creature in another world that transformed itself to prey on our real dimension. The gateway your father opened was the hell hole you have been stuck in for so many months, and for Mike, years, now. He never figured out how it happened, but he did succeed in figuring out what the creature’s purpose was. He made a breakthrough.”

I feel Mike shake behind me, soft sniffles escaping as well. I know this is emotional for him, hearing the truth behind it all. He was stuck in that place for a good fraction of his life. All he wants is closure.

I turn my body slightly so Mama can still rest on me, but I can also hold Mike’s hand. He may have broken my heart and he may have major explaining to do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. He grips my hand tightly, just as shaken up as Mama.

“The last month of my pregnancy was the happiest I had been the whole time. Martin began to spend more time with me and became more involved at the prospect of fatherhood. I was thrilled that your father really wanted to be in your life. At least, that’s how he made it seem. He knew the world he found was dangerous and the creature even more so. He just never went into this information with me. He didn’t tell me anything until the day you were born,” she whispers, voice cracking at the end. I can feel wet tears fall onto my head as she practically rocks me.

“When I went into labor, he said I needed a c-section. The only memory I have is of you crying when you were first born. That was the first and last time I saw you in real life...until now,” she cries, clinging onto me as if I am her life support.

“When I woke up hours later, Martin told me I miscarried. I tried to fight him, but he said being surrounded by the toxic atmosphere of the dimension and being around him all the time had caused you to become ill and stillborn. I argued with him and I tried to tell him what I saw when you were born. He wouldn’t let me talk. He knocked me out again with whatever anesthesia was left over from your birth,” she sniffles.

At this point, I am crying just as hard has her. I can’t believe my mother had to go through all of this. I can’t believe that Papa did all of this to her. He really is like the evil asshole, in real life and in another dimension. Mike is gently caressing my hand, noticing how shaken up I am from the story. Unfortunately, no amount of comfort can help me now.

“The next thing I remember, is waking up in a dark room. It was cold and the only light was sparsely laid around the room. When I had enough strength, I left the room and stumbled into a rather unfamiliar home. I walked around and found no one. I called out to Martin and his lab partners, but to no avail. To my horror, when I reached the attic upstairs, the creature was there. Although, the creature wasn’t male or female. It was all needles and spindles and metal. It was getting ready for its next plan of attack. It was stitching together a doll in order to spy on its next victim. It was the form of the last version of the other Papa that you fought,” she continues.

“When the creature realized I was there, it told me of the plan Martin had proposed. Sweetheart, your father basically auctioned us off to this...thing,” she holds me tighter, trying to prepare me for what is to come.

“Your father had made it easier for the creature to kidnap children and devour their souls. The gateway provided better access to the real world and gave promise to more children being taken. However, your father wanted to close it because there was no explanation to how the creature existed or where the dimension came from. The creature and Martin made an agreement. The gate would be left open for 20 years, enough time to feast easily, have your father experiment, and eventually, leave us behind,” she cries harder.

I feel dizzy at this news, “W-What do you mean, Mama?”

“Martin didn’t want anyone to come in between him and his work, sweetheart. He wanted to be independent and didn’t want anyone to hold him back. The deal with the creature was that it would first get me in the dimension as a slave of sorts. I needed to aid in the kidnappings in exchange for my mild safety in the dimension. When I wasn’t locked away in a secluded chamber, I had to help make the dolls and create a pristine world for all of the victims. If I refused, the creature would instantly take my soul for itself. The last part of the deal is where you came in. When the twenty years was over, the creature would get you as well and the gate would be closed.”

The news of Papa’s cruelty hits me like a ton of bricks. This all means that he never really adopted me, I was always his. There was never any excuse to treat me so poorly. He sacrificed Mama and even myself for his career. He bargained us off without any explanation. He left us there to die. He knew what he was doing when he let me come to this apartment. He knew I was being hunted all along. I have never hated him more in my entire life.

“Jane, I am so sorry. This was never the life I envisioned for you. If only I were stronger or fought harder, maybe you would have never been stuck there. If it weren’t for Mike refusing the eyes as well as you, the three of us might have been stuck there forever,” she sobs, clutching me tighter.

The room is silenced with shock, the only sounds being that of crying and labored breaths. To think that the three of us were able to escape from such an elaborate plan is not only triumphant, but terrifying. We were left in that place to die. Mama didn’t think a positive future would come out of this.

“Your father ran into some trouble with the creature several months after you started venturing to the dimension. Martin didn’t exactly tell it that you would potentially put up a fight. When you began to resent the creature and team up with Mike, the creature became vengeful. He took Martin, sweetheart. He is stuck in that place, dead and trapped there for eternity. We are free, Jane. I never thought we would be,” Mama holds me tighter.

The thought that this has always been under my nose, living in my life is settling in so slowly. My life has essentially set me up for this. I was always expected to die and be pushed aside into an alternate dimension. Papa and the creature deserve what they got. They ruined Mama. They ruined Mike. They ruined me.

Mama continues to cry and I hold on tighter, trying to calm her down.

“You’re safe now, Mama. You will never be there again. You are home. You are free. You have me,” I reassure her and rub her back. 

“I was so terrified when you first started venturing to the dimension. I was hoping you would be able to work with Mike in order to help our situations. Luckily, you both were so strong-willed.”

“I’m just happy we were able to get you out of there. You didn’t deserve to get thrown into this chaos,” Mike finally pipes up, reaching out to hold Mama’s free hand. His kind gesture warms me despite the cold chill that is running through me from Mama’s story.

“We are safe now, my darlings. I promise I will protect you both. I can answer any questions you may have, but I just want you to know that you will never go back there again. What’s done is done,” Mama squeezes both of us.

For the next few minutes, that feel like seconds from the sheer emotions coursing through us, we hold each other tightly. All of our turmoil was not in vain. We are free and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS LITERALLY TOOK 6 MONTHS TO BE PUBLISHED. I SERIOUSLY CANNOT APOLOGIZE ENOUGH.
> 
> My school work got too chaotic and life in general was so stressful and I could not find the time to write. Fortunately, summer is finally here and I intend on working hard over the summer to give you guys more stories! 
> 
> Dimension only has 2 chapters left and I am trying to finish it as quickly as possible. You guys deserve a proper ending! If you want to stay up to date with my writing and other stories, please follow my new tumblr @mikeyandellie and yes, I changed my ao3 username. I plan on finishing Dimension asap before going to work on my other story, Philophobia. 
> 
> Again, I am so sorry that I was on a rather long hiatus, but I hope the final 3 chapters make up for it! ~Veronica


	24. 024

Chapter Twenty-Four ~

After more discussion, filled with more tears and more hugs, night had fallen. It is nearly two in the morning. Mama has retreated to the shower, wanting to begin scrubbing away the past twenty years. Mike is helping me put blankets and pillows on the couch for him to sleep.

When Mama first left us, he got up off the sofa, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

“I should get going. It’s getting late. Would you mind if I came back tomorrow?” he had asked, fingers playing with each other and eyeing me nervously.

I gave him a softened look, probably less daunting than it has been for our past several encounters, “You aren’t driving. Not after all of this. Just stay.”

He looked up hopefully and I outstretched my hand to hold his.

“We still need to talk. We need to talk about...us, but I want you here tonight,” I nodded, squeezing his hand. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, squeezing my hand back. The small action had the ability to send a pulse of hope through me.

Rather than responding, I pulled him into me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, his around my shoulders. I rested my head on his chest and listened to the fast thump! of his heart. He rested his chin on my head, his breathing steadying. Even though we should have been repulsed by the blood and carnage on our clothes and skin, it was as if we were each other’s lifeline. We had survived total destruction together. We made it.

We only broke away when Mama called out to me, asking where the towels were. I came back to Mike setting up the couch.

Now, as we finish, Mama exits from the bathroom, wearing a pair of my pajamas.

“Both of you need to shower before sleeping,” she looks at us, her maternal nature kicking in. I can’t even imagine how painful the past twenty years have been for her. After all, she was forced to watch me grow up, but know that I was essentially auctioned off. 

“Jane, could you go first? I kind of need to talk to your Mom about something,” Mike asks, seeming nervous. I nod, knowing he probably has a dozen questions about the world. He was stuck there for four years after all.

The realization of what has been done completely hits me when I see my reflection in the mirror. The last time I saw myself, I was one of the evil asshole’s creations, possessed and demonic. The streaks of blood on my skin have probably turned the pigment underneath pink, unable to fade for days. My clothes are beyond repair, ripped and covered in the gunky crimson liquid. 

What catches me the most, is the thin line reaching from my cheekbone down to my lips. I shudder as I recollect the evil asshole using his needle finger to caress my face. My own blood has spilled from the small cut and due to the lack of attention it has gotten, I will most likely have a scar there for the rest of my life. I will have a constant reminder of the place that destroyed my family.

-

“Just put them under your pillow. I remember reading about it once,” Mike whispers to me from the other side of the threshold separating my room from the living room.

Mama is fast asleep in my bed, exhausted from her journey. Mike and I stayed up a little longer, not able to talk about anything of major importance sheerly from our shock. However, against my better judgement, we did sit on the couch for an extra hour and held onto each other. I never thought I could feel safe in his arms again, but he did come help me without a guarantee of escape again. He lied about Belle being there just to make sure I would be successful. His actions don’t excuse his journal, but it’s a start.

“Are you sure? I want them to be free as soon as possible,” I whisper back, looking down at the three orbs cradled in my hand. I asked Mike how I was supposed to free the ghost children. They need to be at peace.

“I am positive. Just put them under your pillow and sleep. They will be free by the time you wake up,” he nods. “Go on, you need your rest.”

I whisper a good night and kiss his cheek, before retreating back to my bed. I slip into the empty side, smiling as Mama is fast asleep. I carefully place the ghost orbs under my pillow as Mike instructed, saying a silent prayer that they are released and free.

As I settle into bed, I toss and turn. I still can’t wrap my head around everything. How could I? It is as if my entire life has been a lie thanks to the man I trusted most. Papa was a lot of bad things, but I never realized how cruel he actually was.

Mama must sense my discomfort for her arm lazily wraps around mine, a sign of comfort. I sigh, thankful for her to be beside me and safe.

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep. Versus a deep slumber, my unconsciousness is filled with dark blues and sparkling lights. I feel as though I am swimming in the night sky.

“It is a great thing that you did for us, miss,” Elaine’s sweet voice rings from above me. 

As I crane my neck upwards, I am met with the sight of her, Ada, and Levi. The trio are wearing white robes and golden belts. Their hair is curled and immaculate, skin fresh and young, showing that they they had been washed of all the terror within the realm. They each have a golden glow shining down on them, stemming from a sleek halo that is around the crown of their heads. I smile when I realize they have their real eyes.

“I am just glad I could help. I am glad that place has been silenced forever,” I smile at them. 

The trio look between each other, their smiles replaced with that of resentment. As my smile turns into a frown, Ada floats over to me.

“You haven’t completed your journey yet. You are in grave danger, Jane! So is Mike,” she says, an undertone of worry in her words.

“W-What? We are free, we closed the door,” I ask, confused as they float around.

Levi comes closer to me, his hands raising. His action causes a tug around my neck and I peer downwards. I am wearing the button key to the door around my neck. I figure that in order to make sure the portal stays closed, I need to keep it with me at all times.

“That’s the only key in existence. You can’t keep it with you. It is too dangerous! You need to get rid of it!” Levi warns me, holding the key.

The other two float over, expressing their worry as well.

“I need to hide it. Somewhere that it can never find it,” I gulp, taking the key back and clutching it.

“You need to throw it away. You need to banish the dimension…” the trio say in unison, their voices getting louder.

With each word they say, we start to spin, all three of them surround me. We go faster and faster, until the blue swirls of the sky blend with the golden light surrounding them.

“…forever!” they yell as I sit up in bed, awake and panting.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and clutch the key at my neck. Did that just really happen? I gulp as I turn in my bed and lift my pillow. I gasp, my anxiety building. The three orbs are shattered, signifying that despite the fact that the children were now free, I had to destroy the key to keep our world safe. 

I pull away from Mama’s grip, shoving the key back under my shirt. I slide my shoes on and run out to Mike. I drop to my knees and shake him by the shoulders.

“Mmm, what?” he says sleepily, eyes still closed. 

“Mike, we need to go! The ghost children said we are in danger!” I whisper hurriedly, my voice dripping with fear. His eyes snap open at the word “danger.”

“We need to go!” I pull him up, standing up as well. He rubs his eyes as he puts his sneakers on.

“What did they say?” he asks. I am already making my way for the door. 

“Mike, c’mon!” I whisper-yell as he shuffles over to me. “They said that we have to get rid of the key. It’s the only one in existence and the dimension won’t be banished unless we hide it away.”

Mike reaches me and we quickly leave my apartment. The hall is dark, the overhead lights flickering palely and reminding me once again of how pristine the other world was compared to this. Our quick footsteps pick up dust as I explain the past few minutes to Mike.

“Where exactly are we going?” he asks when we reach the outside world. It’s cold and the sky is as navy and glistening as it was in my dream. The wind hits us as I look down the surrounding streets of my apartment building.

“Do you know where the old well is? Dustin showed it to me one time. We can hide it there. It’s so deep and once you are down there, you can’t get back,” I look at Mike, my voice shaking out of nervousness. For all we know, the creature is hot on our tails. We could be doomed any second.

Mike nods, agreeing with the plan. We break into a run down a pathway to the right. If I remember correctly, it is no more than a ten minute walk. However, at the rate we are going, we should be there even faster.

“Are we just chucking it down there?” Mike asks concerned as we rush up one of the hills. The light is hitting the trees, their pale pink flowers falling down on the pathway and onto us. Had the atmosphere around us not been filled with terror, I would say this is quite a romantic place to be. No wonder Dustin had taken me here.

“I don’t know! Is there any way we could destroy it first?” I ask as we reach a plateau in the hill. I can see the wooden circle just a few yards ahead of us. 

“We can try to break off the key nubs with a rock first,” he suggests as we halt at the well. The wind swirls around us and we shiver.

I nod and tell him to move the cover of the well. I look around my feet for a rock sizable enough to break at the heavy iron key. A shiver runs through my spine, but it isn’t from the wind. I hear clicking, as if someone is tapping metal against rock. I glance over my shoulders and the surrounding area. I feel as though I am being watched, but no one is around. The clicking gets closer, it is probably just an animal carrying something and I am overthinking from fear. It could be anything.

“Keep it together, Jane,” I say in my head, shaking it as well. I pick a rock up as Mike finishes removing the cover. I toss it to him and take a deep breath.

My fingers tug at the chain around my neck, fishing the key from inside my shirt. The end of the key is just poking out of my shirt when Mike screams,

“Jane, watch out!”

I jump as the clicking noise ceases and sharp pricks come onto my arm. One needle hand, the leftover scrap cut off from closing the door onto the tunnel, is latched onto my skin. It leaps to the chain of the necklace, knocking me onto my feet. The hand is strong, dragging me across the floor of the hill. I can hear a pounding from the apartment building and my eyes are strobed with a vicious light pumping from my window. The creature is angry, it wants me back. It wants it’s prize.

I am getting choked my the string around my neck, my vision getting spotty. I hear Mike’s hurried footsteps get louder before he is pulling the spindle hand away from my chain. Its force sends him backwards as well. I sit up, coughing and scrambling. 

I screech when I see Mike tumble down the hill and into the well.

“Mike!” I scream, watching as his hands are barely able to grip onto the edge of the wooden circle. The needle hand crawls on his back and shoulders, causing him to let go with one hand. He struggles to stay on, but fights with the hand. I can see him swing, retaining his two-handed grip shakily.

My hands search around me, finding the rock I had thrown to Mike before. I rush over and chuck the rock onto the spindle hand. Being too focused on Mike, the hand does not realize I have hit it from behind.

My straight forward throw has hit the spindle hand right at its makeshift joint. In relief, I see the needles all break apart, the dead metal clanging onto the ground. The last portion of the creature has been destroyed. The other remnants are stuck in the dimension. 

I rush over to Mike who has swung a leg over the side of the well. I pull him up and he clutches onto me, breath haggard.

“Let’s finish this off. Once and for all,” he says, removing the flannel he had been wearing. 

He shifts over, chucking the rock and all of the needle pieces into the flannel. He stretches the fabric around the contents and I finally remove the key from around my neck. I tie the flannel shut with the key’s chain. The key itself is disfigured due to the strength of the hand, allowing us to simply get rid of it. 

We stand up, shaking as we clutch the last piece of the dimension in our hands. Together, we chuck it down the well. And, as per the last time I threw something down there, we hear it crash into the water below after thirty-three seconds. We waste no time pushing the wooden cover back over the well, concealing the rock and broken hand as it inevitably sinks low into the water.

Mike and I fall into each other, landing away from the well and onto the petal-covered ground. We lay down, arms around each other. If we weren’t emotionally worn out, we would most likely cry. We hold each other tightly, watching the bright stars and feeling the weight of the other dimension lift off our shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe there is one more chapter! The last one is an epilogue!! 
> 
> Thank you for all the love on the last chapter! I am happy to be back and that you guys still love the story :) ~Veronica


	25. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grab a snack and some tissues ! (actually, grab a lot of tissues)

Epilogue ~

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Can you pick up some milk on the way home please?” Mama asks as she hands me one of our wet plates from breakfast.

I nod, drying off the dishes, “Do we need anything else?”

As Mama says some other things, I continue to dry the plates. This was something customary of our days now. Mama and I living together, keeping things in order. Mama and I creating a little family, forged from what we thought was lost. 

In the weeks following the final banishment of the other dimension, I immediately left my apartment at the dreary building on Cedar Avenue. I knew that I wanted to stay in Hawkins, it was becoming home. Mama had said she had grown up here when she was little, adding to how ironic it was that I chose to move here. Despite our desire to stay in the tiny town, we both agreed it would be best to leave my apartment. It is hard enough to combat our memories of the other world in our new home, let alone in the same place all the misery took place.

So, a month and a half later, we found ourselves living in a little house on Maple Street. The new house has also allowed us to learn truly what it feels like to have a mother, to have a daughter. We both dreamed of the day we would finally be together, or wished in my case, and to finally have it leaves us indescribably happy. Conveniently, and Mama denies that this had a role in her wanting this house in particular, our new home was just down the street from Mike’s house. The closeness allowed the three of us to heal and grow together instead of fight our own internal battles. 

Luckily, Mama was using her history to good use. She told me one day soon after our escape that if she couldn’t make use of the horrors she had seen and fought, there was no point in her making it back out in the real world. Since then, she has been working on a set of memories depicting her life, from before she met Papa and to her hopes for the future. She dedicates her days to her writing, fulfilling her lifelong goal of being a journalist. With aid from Mike’s hefty research, she has created something so poignant from panic. I could not be more proud of her.

While Mama writes the stories of our lives, I am getting back into my music career. Because I had practically dropped off of the grid for several months, my growing fanbase was concerned, as was the media. When I resurfaced, finally back from the nightmare, I began doing interviews with popular magazines and television shows. I explained that I had been to hell and back, if you could even say it so simply. However, I never give the full story. That’s Mama’s job. 

My career, although still getting built, has never been as successful as it is now. One of the first new songs I released after we escaped, told the story of a girl trapped, left to her own devices. Despite the sacrifice and agony, she willed on and escaped. She became free. The old audience loved it. The new audience was mesmerized. I never knew that I could write something like that. So, now, as Mama writes her memoirs, I write my first real album. I have even decided on calling it “Buttons.”

“What are you writing about today?” I ask Mama as I put all the utensils back in their place in the drawer. 

“I need to finish off the chapter about Elaine. Please thank Dustin again when you see him later. The interview with his grandmother was so powerful,” she smiles at me, kissing my temple. Her hand reaches up to my cheek, finger tracing over the thin line forever pierced into my skin. As odd as it may sound, I am glad the scar stayed. Not only is it a reminder of the place, but a reminder of how strong I can be.

“Of course, Mama,” I smile back. “I shouldn’t be too long coming home.”

She smirks, removing her hand from my face, “Or, maybe, today will finally be the day you sort things out.”

I sigh, shaking my head at her. This is the only thing we find ourselves arguing about which can be considered impressive for a twenty year old living with her mother. She is always incessant that I talk to Mike about everything. I have been avoiding the topic since the night after we chucked the key down the well. It isn’t that Mike and I aren’t friendly now or that we don’t talk. It’s just that we talk about everything, but the bad between us. I haven’t asked about the journal or Belle or what the hell the truth is. Part of me is scared that I won’t like the answer. And, then, I will have to go the rest of my life knowing there was really nothing between us and it was all a lie. The other part of me is unaware of how to forgive him, if there is some viable excuse. Nonetheless, Mama wants me to sort everything out with him. Whenever they do meet to work on the memoir, I know they talk about me. Hell, Mama probably knows more than I do, most likely why she wants us to talk. 

“Very funny. I’ve told you, I am not ready yet,” I sigh, crossing my arms and pouting my lip. “I can’t form a coherent thought about it at all. Frankly, I have blocked it out.”

“Well, you best think about it. It will be good for you, Jane,” she pulls away, still smiling as she turns to walk to her room. I roll my eyes.

“Besides,” she calls, “I just want that boy to be my son-in-law already.”

I groan, shaking my head when she says that. I call out a “goodbye,” ignoring the marriage joke, as I grab my keys and head out. I keep thinking about what Mama said when I get into the car. I keep thinking about what she said on my entire drive. 

She knows I still like Mike. She might even know that I am kind of in love with him. How could I not love him? All heroic stuff aside, he has a way of warming me up. He is the only person I know that can make me smile so easily, make me laugh so hard. He is always there to brighten my day, or be my shoulder to cry on. He is funny and kind and willing to explain anything I still want to know about that place we were entrapped in. If it weren’t for the sour parts of our history, I would be indulging Mama’s marriage comments...only a little.

When I park my car in the lot, I take a deep breath. Coming in here is always difficult, but each time it gets a little easier. I lock my car and shakily approach the building where all my nightmares lived.

Mama felt that it was important to stay connected to everyone. It didn’t matter if most of my memories were difficult, as long as I was working for a better future. She said that part of moving on, was staying close to the others I chose to leave behind. That’s why, despite the few months I haven’t lived here, I still come once a week, every Friday at nine forty-five in the morning. It is a nice routine to have.

I wave at the receptionist, a somewhat fake smile on my face. I make my way to the stairs, each step harder than the last. I can already feel the memories washing over me as they do each time I come back here. 

In the stairwell, I see the flashes of Mike and I running with the key, filled with anguish. In the hallway, I picture the pristine floors and walls and windows the other world had. When I see the window across the way, a flash of the button shadow floods into my eyesight, sending a shiver down my spine. Every little nook, pattern, and embellishment reminds me of the hell hole I was sold off to. I can’t help the way this place affects me. 

The first few times I returned, I had panic attacks in the stairwell and immediately started crying when I saw Will and Max. I couldn’t breathe and all I could see was their button eyes and their lifeless puppet selves, damaged from the destruction I had caused. Mike thought I should see a therapist. He said it was normal that I was going to have post-traumatic stress disorder, but then again, I was intensifying it by choosing to return to the apartment building every week. Mama had even agreed with him despite it being her idea for me to keep returning. However, I declined their requests. I wanted to work this out on my own and discuss what I felt with the two of them. Besides, how could any therapist help with something like this? It’s not like most people get sucked into an alternate universe. It would be impossible to convey how I felt, even if the person I spoke to was a top professional. 

Per custom, I stop at Will’s door first. I slowly raise my hand to knock. The floodgates open as my knuckle taps the wood. Will and our dinner. Will and the drawing. Will telling me Mama was alive. When the door swings open, his face blank as it always is, the worst of my memory takes over yet again. With every blink of his eyes, I see buttons. With every detail I take in of him, I see him lifeless and burning on the ground, surrounded by his own blood. 

“Hi Jane,” he says, voice monotone and familiar. At least I can always count on this aspect of Will remaining the same.

“Hi, Will,” I stutter, but cough immediately to cover it up. “What have you been up to?”

Despite the ransack of memories flashing in my mind, I notice he has a smear of blank paint on his cheekbone.

“Come,” he steps aside, gesturing for me to come inside his apartment. He tries this everytime, knowing very well of my hopes to become more accustomed to what happened.

And, as I do everytime, I shake my head, politely declining.

“Not this time, okay? Not yet,” I sigh, my feet staying planted on the ground. As much as I love to push myself, this is one step I can’t take yet. It would paralyze me too much.

And, as he does everytime, he nods and backs into his apartment to get whatever piece he has been busy with. I smile, letting out a little sigh of relief when he returns. 

“Almost ready. For you,” he says, turning the canvas around so I can see. I gasp.

Will has painted me, except I don’t look like the way I imagine myself in my head. I am strong and sure of myself. I stand at the top of a hill, looking fearless. There are cherry blossom trees adorning the sides, but I stand alone in the center. I am wearing my classic detective coat, hair let loose in its natural curls. I have a glint in my eyes, the expression of my face showing that I am brave, willing to fight. And, somehow, he manages to make my scar empowering, not a deficit.

“Will...this is beautiful,” I say breathlessly, still in awe from the masterpiece. “Thank you. I don't know what else to say. You didn’t have to do this.”

“Wanted to,” Will says and, for a moment, I feel as though I am dreaming for his lips turn up in the smallest of smiles. 

“Well, still. Thank you,” I say, admiring the canvas’ details.

We share a few more exchanges before he says goodbye, telling me he wants to add the finishing touches so it is ready for next week. I tell him that maybe next week I will finally come inside. He smiles at this, too.

As I turn on my heels, I walk down the rest of the length of the hallway. If seeing Will is what I consider difficult, seeing Max is unbearable. Our relationship in the other dimension was anything, but sweet. I annihilated her twice. Yet, I know the real Max needs me more than anyone. She has practically no one. Her family isn’t around and she still struggles with the concept of Lucas being in her mind. When I did tell her the truth, about everything, nightmares included, she said she was happy she knew as strong a friend as me as she did.

Before I stop at Max’s door, I stare at the one I used to call my own. Thankfully, after my recounting of events to the apartment staff, they have left it vacant, just the furniture it came with left there. Considering most of my boxes were packed, we simply moved them into Mike’s house and we lived there until we got the new house. I haven’t been inside since that last day. Part of me does not want to know if that tiny door is still inside. The other part, wants to burn it down.

I turn away, not letting myself indulge in what was in that apartment. Maybe one day I will go back inside, but as with Will’s apartment, today is not that day.

I knock on Max’s door, trying to ignore the feeling I always have when standing in front of her door. I fear that as I wait for her, the evil asshole is lurking behind me and getting ready to drag me back. Although this is impossible because the key is so far into the Earth, parts of me still crawl with fear.

Max’s door opens and she smiles, red hair swinging in her ponytail. My chest clenches as my memories of her flood in as they did with Will. Meeting Max for the first time. Max and our drunken night. Fighting Max in the other dimension. Max being completely demolished and left with her abuser. I can never look at her without the crimson blood being a lense on my vision. 

“Jane! I’ve missed you!” she lunges at me with a hug, pulling me to her tightly. I wrap my arms around her, thankful that I don’t have to see her eyes, even for a couple seconds. I don’t know when I will stop seeing them as buttons.

“I missed you, too,” I smile. I will admit, I have gotten quite close to her since the whole ordeal. She played a big role in Mike and I figuring out more about the dimension. She was a key factor on why I think I am so strong now.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask when we finally pull away. After I told Max about all that I had been through and her role, she admitted that she felt as though she wasn’t getting as much help as she needed. Frankly, I was so proud of her for facing her reality. Her reality was my craziness, but she still confided in me and wanted more help. So, now, I bring her to and from her weekly sessions with her psychiatrist. She tells me that things are getting better, that she feels herself becoming stronger and more responsible. I am just happy that she is trying to make a good life for herself despite her illness.

As we walk down the hall and on the drive to her psychiatrist’s office, Max updates me on the new exercises she has been working on. She tells me of how she branched out of her comfort zone and visited Will this past week. She said that since now that I don’t live in the building anymore and that she is getting more comfortable with controlling the demons in her head, she needs to reach out and find more friends. The news thrills me, so happy for her progress. Even if they are in different ways, Max and I are healing. I watch as she grows and becomes an adult. She watches as I become stronger and attempt to embrace my past.

“I’ll see you in two hours, okay? Have a good session,” I smile at her from the driver’s seat. 

I watch as she unbuckles and she turns her body to face me. She even looks older, not like the younger acting girl I met many months ago, but someone my own age.

“I never really got to thank you, Jane,” she says, catching me off guard.

“For what?”

“For actually being my friend in a time of darkness. You came to my side when no one else willed to help me. I mean you went against your Papa to be my friend. Just, thank you for believing in me when no one else did,” she says, out of breath when she finishes. Her stern manner, no matter the smile on her face, makes me think she has been rehearsing this. I smile widely at her gesture, leaning over the console to give her a hug.

“And, thank you for letting me surround your life in darkness, but helping me fight for the light at the end of the tunnel,” I say as she squeezes me. We pull apart and she smiles at me.

I wave a goodbye to her as she leaves the car, making sure she enters the building before I begin to drive away. I never thought that the girl Papa thought was crazy would be a close friend of mine, nor the artistic boy next door. But, my life had so many surprises waiting for me. And, despite the hardships, I am lucky to have them both.

I watch Hawkins swirl around me as I drive through town. When I moved here, the only goal I had was to prove to Papa that I was mature, responsible enough to handle my own life. If the last few months says anything, I am as mature as I ever will be in a lifetime. Hawkins is home no matter the backstory it has. I think coming here is the smartest choice I have ever made.

When I finally park at the dingy market parking lot, I grip the steering wheel. Of all the places to go into today, this may be the hardest. 

“Just get it over with,” I exhale out loud, unbuckling my seatbelt. I get out of the car and walk inside.

“Jane!” Dustin smiles from behind the counter, his signature grin adorning his face. “Gee, I haven’t seen you in...two days. It’s a record.”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh back, rolling my eyes. I flip him off, causing him to raise his hands in mock defense. I head back to the milk fridge to get what Mama asked for.

When Mike and I put the dimension to rest finally, we told Dustin the truth about everything. We didn’t leave out all of the backstory. After all, his family deserved to know the truth as well. We told him how Wimbly Flats had not only taken us, but his Aunt Elaine so many years ago. We told him the story of the creature and the spying doll and the button eyes. He was so taken aback, so shocked that we had survived all of that. He said that Mike and I were heroes. Afterwards, Mike and I met with him and his grandmother where we told her the story of her sister. Later, both of them, feeling indebted to us, worked closely with Mama to give Elaine a more powerful background in the memoir.

Dustin and I, privately when Mike was incessantly chatting with Mrs. Henderson, talked about the somewhat awkward kiss we shared. He apologized, claiming it was out of line. I forgave him, feigning that I was just too caught up in the dimension to think about romantic relationships. Even if he knew Mike and I were close, he didn’t need to know the full extent.

I walk back to the counter, feeling a sense of déja vu over the first time I came in here. It is so weird getting that feeling everywhere I go in this town. 

Dustin rings me up and we make small talk. Being around him was comfortable now considering that everything was out in the open. I can sense, too, that him and I will be quite close friends as time goes on. 

My heart feels light as Dustin hands me my change back. To my relief, a certain boy isn’t working today. I smile at Dustin, thank him again, and begin to turn towards the door. Unfortunately, I barely make it three steps.

“And, where do you think you’re going, El?” Mike’s sweet voice that melts my insides rings from behind me. I turn around, a fake annoyed look on my face.

“And, what did I tell you about that nickname, Michael?” I shoot back, eyebrows raised. So much for a calm morning.

He shuts the door to the breakroom, stepping out from behind the counter as well. While I had my music career to focus on when we came back, Mike had an affinity for going back to school. He had always wanted to be a scientist and his love for curiosity had never stopped growing. He attended the local community college and worked at the market with Dustin on his off days.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks, stepping closer to me so I have to crane my neck.

“I mean, I have to pick Max up from therapy later. And, I do have a song that needs to be finished,” I spew out excuses. 

“Could you maybe spare twenty minutes?” he asks, his face changing from jovial to sincere. His eyes widen as if he is nervous and he plays with his fingers. 

“I suppose,” I shrug. He looks relieved at this answer and motions for me to go outside. I wave to Dustin, him returning one. My head is turned towards his long enough to see him wink at Mike. Oh no.

I shuffle to my car and throw the groceries in the back seat. I lock the car and then, turn around to face him. Only, when I do turn around, I jump slightly. It’s as if he has been in deep thought, figuring out what he is going to say next.

“You know, I think it is bad jobmanship to skip out on your work,” I tease as I try to get his attention.

He snaps back to reality, a hesitant laugh escaping, “I have a twenty minute break actually. Hence why I asked if you were free for twenty minutes.”

I nod, a nervous smile peeking onto my face, “You scar is healing nicely.”

One of the tiny miracles of the dimension, although it can be viewed as tormenting as well, is that on our right cheeks, Mike and I have identical scars from the evil asshole. They both cut from cheekbone to lip, just thick enough for it to be visible. Mama says that our scars, literally and figuratively from the dimension, will always cause us to have a connection.

At this, Mike perks up, his dazy attitude fading. He touches it self-consciously, and then, squints his eyes as if he is scrutinizing mine.

“I’d still say that yours is more badass. It makes you seem fearless which is like totally hot,” he coughs a little at the end.

My cheeks turn red at the comment, most likely highlighting my scar even more. Mike has been dropping little compliments like this at me for weeks now. My brain keeps telling me not to overanalyze them until we actually talk, but my heart can’t help but be happy.

“If I am a badass, then you’re one too,” I try to ease the tension a little, nudging his arm. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

He hesitates, looking away from me and then, he takes a deep breath. My whole world gets sent into chaos.

“You deserve an explanation.”

“O-Oh, we don’t ha-” I start to say, already feeling anxiety consume me over the potential conversation. I don’t know if I am ready for this. Unfortunately, Mike cuts me off.

“Yes, we do, Jane. I can’t keep pushing it back. I want to tell you the truth about everything. You deserve to know about Belle and the journal and just everything. I can’t keep going on without you knowing. I care about you so much,” he pleads, looking extremely sincere.

I let out a shaky breath, but I finally nod. I guess it is now or never. Mike starts walking down the sidewalk and I follow him. He doesn’t say where we are going, but something tells me we will be gone longer than the twenty minutes.

As we break away from the street that the market sits on, we are both consumed in silence. It is as if there is everything to say, but nowhere to begin. Somehow, the silence is more agonizing than the unknowing.

“Why did you lie about Belle getting taken?” I ask softly, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the dim brightness surrounding us. It was fall now, the leaves turning and cascading Hawkins in red-orange beauty.

He seems thankful for a start to the conversation. I can feel his gaze on me as we walk, but I refuse to look at him.

“I kept going to your apartment. I figured you deserved an explanation about the journal which I will get to later on. Anyways, nothing was happening, but one day when I got to your apartment, I was able to knock on the door and no one was there. I had figured you just went out somewhere until your neighbor, Will, opened his door. I asked him where you were and he told me about your mother still being alive and how you were frightened. He told me that Max had given you a powerful object and that you were planning on going back and saving your Mama. I knew in that moment that you had already went, you weren’t just out somewhere.”

I take in his words, trying to register everything. The puzzle pieces I have avoided thinking about for months were finally coming together.

“I rushed back home, grabbed supplies, and then, immediately went back to your apartment. I broke in and when I saw that the portal door was open, I knew what I was doing was right. As I searched for you in the dimension, I realized that if I just showed up to help, you would never believe me. You had already read the journal and hated me. You would never just think I was there to help you and I didn’t want to stress you out even more by making you overthink about why I was there. As soon as I told you that I was there for Belle, I instantly regretted it. I should have told you the truth because the lie I told only made you angrier. But, I kept my mouth shut and just kept going. But, Jane, I went back for you. It was always about you,” he finishes the first segment of his story.   
I can already feel tears forming in my eyes as we begin walking up the hill. I already know where our path is taking us, the cherry blossom flowers flurrying around our feet now. 

“But...the journal. You never really cared about me when we were in that place. I mean if you truly care about me now, which I believe that you do, it came from after our escape,” I say, trying to wrap my head around what he has just told me. “Why would you come back for me when you hated me?”

He stops in his tracks, looking down at me. I stop and turn my head, finally looking up at him. He has tears in his eyes, too.

“Jane, I never hated you. The evil asshole, as you know, was quite notorious for screwing with our minds, shattering everything we thought we knew and coveted. Do you remember the night you had the dream about yourself, but you tried to fight back? That night, he made me dream, too. Only, I didn’t consciously realize I was stuck in one of his mind games until you had left me in the real world,” he pauses, unsure of how to continue.

At this point, there are tears streaming down my face, “What are you talking about?”

“In my dream, I saw myself. I was sarcastic and devious, the same attitude that your dream self had with you. Except, in my dream, you were there, too. But, the dream Mike didn’t like dream Jane. He was cruel and wanted to manipulate her in order to escape. The last thing I remember about the dream was that the other Mike ran towards me and overcame my senses. Remember when you fought your puppet self? And, she controlled you to see what she wanted? Well, the evil asshole made dream Mike control me. Until we had gotten out of that place and the evil asshole couldn’t control me anymore, dream Mike controlled me. He made me think awful things about you. He tried to convince me that I wasn’t falling crazy in love with you. He tried to convince me that you were only a tool to escape,” Mike is crying too, eyes staring into mine.

I am frozen with shock at this new information. I didn’t know that Mike was dealing a battle internally, controlled by the forces of the evil asshole. I don’t move or speak, too dumbfounded by this news. I hope he can see the yearning in my eyes, begging him to explain the journal.

Fortunately, he must understand my face as he continues, “The evil asshole knew that I had been writing about the dimension since I first got there. I wrote about the good times at first all the way to when they spiraled out of control. Unbeknown to me, the evil asshole was able to see what I was writing. When I was asleep, even in hidden locations, he always managed to find me and see what I was writing. He knew you and I were planning a rebellion and he wanted to make sure that even if we had succeeded, we wouldn’t be able to last. So, when I started writing my entries about you, he made his own journal. It was identical to my own, but it was with the same cruel mannerisms that the dream Mike had. The evil asshole wrote fake entries on the same days I wrote my real ones. He purposely wrote them the way he did in order to ensure that you would never be happy in the real world. He wanted to make me seem like some monster. He wanted you to believe that you were being used because he knew it would hurt me, too. He hoped that the journal would lead us to go back to him.”

“H-How do you know all of this? H-How am I supposed to believe you?” I weep. This is too crazy, right? There is no way this is true.

“When we escaped the first time, I was still in dream Mike mode. The evil asshole instructed him to take the journal that he wrote, not me. I didn’t realize that there was anything wrong with it because I wasn’t writing in it when we got out. I was so overwhelmed with emotions and we were so busy. And, by the time we were in the new apartment, the dream Mike stuff had worn off only, I couldn’t remember any of it. It was if it was erased from my head. The evil asshole was still spying on us after we left. I don’t know what he did, but he was able to see we got into that fight when you first stormed out. I tried following you, but I couldn’t keep up. I felt awful, but I was just hoping you would come back. When I went back upstairs, Dustin was in the apartment. He was holding my journal and shaking, furious at whatever was in it. When I asked him how he had gotten up there and what was wrong, he stormed out with no explanation and took the evil asshole’s journal with him.”

I watch as Mike keeps sobbing, listening as his voice gets muffled by his tears. As crazy as it sounds, this all sounds believable. The evil asshole was capable of all of this. I am about to ask a question, but Mike beats me to it.

“I was confused by Dustin’s reaction to the journal. I thought at first that maybe he was jealous that we didn’t tell him the full extent of our relationship. After all, I was writing about all the times we had kissed and the indescribable way that you made me feel. I thought he was just upset. That was until a knock came at my door. Except, when I opened it, hoping it was you, there was a single package on the floor and no one there. There was no return label and there wasn’t even an address on it. It was blank. I lugged it inside and opened it. There was a dingy shoebox inside, but on top of it, was a letter. I nearly fainted when I opened it,” Mike wipes his eyes and pulls his phone out. I watch as he goes into the camera app. He pulls up a picture of what he just described, shoebox with a letter on top. The next picture is of the letter.

Written in red ink in sticklike lettering, “If I can’t have either of you, neither can you two.”

“I knew it was him immediately. I knew he had done something,” Mike starts, his hand shaking as he starts to scroll to the other pages. “This is my real journal. He had stolen it and kept it in the other dimension. He somehow got it back to me and it was inside the shoebox, back in my possession. However, you never saw the real one, only the fake. His plan worked.”

My sobs intensify as I skim the writing of Mike’s real journal. My eyes gloss over words such as “pretty,” “intelligent,” and then, the one phrase that truly gets to me: “I think I’m falling in love with her.” I believe him. I may not have a few minutes ago, but this is it. This means something, this is the truth. Mike has always wanted me. He never just used me. Mike is in love with me.

“I had begun to put all the pieces together and I didn’t think it was true until you came back. When you chucked his journal at me, I realized what he had done. You didn’t let me explain though, you just walked away. I wanted to make sure everything was right first, so I went back to the apartment. I compared the journals. Same handwriting and same dates, but completely different message. Damn it, Jane, I was heartbroken for you,” he sniffles as he swipes to the next few pictures of both the journals side by side.

“I wanted to immediately tell you what happened, but when I showed up to your apartment later on, the real Max heard me in the hallway. She said that you had told her everything the night before and that she wouldn’t let the boy that broke her friend’s heart stay any longer. She called security on me and didn’t even give me a second to explain. I kept trying to come back, but she always caught me. I was lucky the day that I got there and Will helped instead. I would never be able to forgive myself if you got stuck there forever,” he locks his phone, putting it away once I have seen all the pictures. He faces me, letting his tears flow freely.

“So, that’s it. The whole ugly explanation. Jane, I am so sorry for everything that happened. It didn’t pan out properly because we just so happen to have been manipulated, but the biggest asshole in the entire universe. He is gone though and I can say something to you so unabashed now,” he takes a deep breath. “Jane, I am in love with you. I have never hated you and I have never regretted being with you and I have wanted you from the first time we met.” 

I feel a whole slew of emotions overcome me as he ends his story, the whole ugly explanation as he calls it. I am enraged at the evil asshole. I am annoyed, yet gratified with Max. I am thankful for Will. I am in love with Mike. I am so in love with Mike.

“I believe you,” I finally whisper after several moments of silence. I know that he can tell that I am taking it all in, absorbing all the details he has just explained to me. Mama was right. I did want to know this. I can’t believe I waited this long.

“You do?” he says, his eyes so full of hope, hands reaching out to gently hold my arms.

I nod, “A-And, I forgive you. I mean this wasn’t necessarily your fault, but I forgive you. I really do.”

He looks overjoyed when I say this, emotions overtaking him as well. His hands move to my waist and he pulls me in tightly. In this moment, I feel fully safe in his arms, a feeling I hope I get to experience for the rest of my life. I hold him tightly and we cry for enough time to definitely surpass his twenty minute break. Nonetheless, we don’t care. We only have our minds on each other.

We pull back finally, my hands reaching up to wipe his tears and his doing the same on my face. Eerily, we both caress our matching scars.

“There’s one more thing, Mike,” I whisper, staring into his glassy brown eyes. 

“Yes?” he asks me hopefully.

“I am so in love with you, too,” I smile, not wasting any time before I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss him.

He doesn’t seem caught off guard by my actions, more by my words. I think he was probably so scared that I wouldn’t believe him that he didn’t expect to make it this far. His hands move back down to my waist and he holds me tightly against him. My hands move up to his hair, tugging at the curly strands and bringing his lips to mine as closely as possible. I can’t remember the last time we kissed and I probably won’t remember any of our future ones in comparison to this kiss. We kiss with hope and happiness and longing. We kiss with everything that has been building up within us since we first came back and teetered the line between friendship and something more.

“Mama is going to be happy we are finally together,” I whisper against his lips after a few moments, causing him to laugh.

I cringe as I realize I actually just said that, “Sorry to ruin the moment. But, we are together, right?”

I bite my lip, hoping that I haven’t assumed anything incorrectly.

“Jane, there is no one else I will ever love the way I love you. There is no one else I will ever want to spend my life with besides you. Of course we are together,” he smiles widely, as if he has just won the biggest trophy at a science fair. I blush, leaning up to kiss his lips again gently.

“I really wasn’t lying,” I say when I pull back again, “she will be thrilled.”

“Good, because my mom will be thrilled. But, not as thrilled as me,” he smiles, reaching his hand down to lace my fingers with mine. I lean into his side, holding him tightly as I look out at the top of the hill. We don’t have to say it, but we both know that our eyes are trained on Wimbly Flats. That place sparked destruction and devastation, but it also brought us both love and hope.

As I look out at the town I think I will always call home, hearing the heartbeat of the boy I love most against my ear, I finally feel at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I am writing this note. It is currently 1:30 in the morning and I have spent the last 6 hours pouring my soul into this Epilogue. This story means so much to me and I can't believe I finished it despite how much time I was away from it. I am literally crying now because it is over and the little Dimension world has come to a close.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read and supported this story! All of your comments always put a smile on my face and motivated me to keep writing (and come back). Thank you for reading so avidly each time I posted a chapter and giving this story so much love. I really hope you enjoyed the Epilogue and the way I closed out the story. I am really happy with the way it came out.
> 
> If you want to read more from me, I will be working on my story "Philophobia" this summer! The first two chapters have already been posted. You can also reach out to me on tumblr via @mikeyandellie.
> 
> Okay, I can't believe "Dimension" is over. Thank you for being a great audience and following the crazy adventure El and Mike went on. You guys are amazing and I love you all so much! ~Veronica


End file.
